#like. the first time i shot a bow i was half percy's age. and so were the ten or so other kids shooting with me. none of our arrows shot be

[dont-open-dead-inside-25]

not to be disrespectful to percy but how the fuck do you accidentally shoot a bow backwards. i've seen six year olds shoot bows for the first time with no incidents. i'm blaming chiron for this one that is an instructor failure

[tsarisfanfiction]

His Father’s Son

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Michael Yew, Apollo

Michael’s always been his father’s son.

For @flashfictionfridayofficial​ #176: Like Your Father. Once again been a little while since I wrote anything for this but this prompt was too good not to try something in the little time I had! This comes in at 620 words, according to AO3. Reminder that there’s now a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi!

Just like your father.

Michael doesn't remember the first time he heard those words. He thinks his mom's been saying them since the moment he was born. The first time he remembers them, dawn was breaking, he'd slipped out of bed, and fallen down the stairs, waking her in the process.

Looking back now, he's not sure if she was talking about the waking up at dawn bit, or the fact his bruises already looked days old mere minutes after the fall. At the time, he hadn't understood how he could be like someone he'd never met.

Just like your father.

He remembers the first time the bastard says them, spat out like a snarl. Mom had married the guy when he was four and Michael and Simon had hated each other from the start. He doesn't remember what had triggered the comment, but he knows he'd hated it, the way words his mom had made sound like a good thing sounded like a curse coming from him.

Looking back now, he knows that there's no way the bastard had known who his father was, that it had been empty words because Simon had convinced himself Michael's dad was a deadbeat waste of space. At the time, he'd wondered if he'd known something he didn't.

Just like your father.

He remembers arriving at camp and hearing those words the first time he met Chiron. He'd just been claimed, a golden lyre above his head, the moment he'd snatched a bow from the hands of another kid because they'd said something that irritated him. The shot he loosed a moment later had hit gold.

Looking back now, he wonders if Chiron saw more to him than just the archery, even back then. He knows the story of Apollo's birth and the reasons he challenged Python. At the time, hurt and distrustful of everyone, especially half-siblings and adopted parents, it was unimaginable to him that he would ever fight for them.

Just like your father.

He remembers when Mr D said it, just once, after his first major fight at camp. He's not sure which Ares kid it was that had tipped him over the edge, but he remembers the moment shouting turned to weapons, and ending up with his fast-healing but in the infirmary because he was fierce but too small to hold up in a melee scrap.

Looking back now, it feels more like a warning, a reminder that Apollo's temper always has consequences, sometimes for him and sometimes for others. Often for both. At the time, it had just felt dismissive, and he'd wondered why the god had even bothered to speak to him.

Just like your father.

He remembers the Hunter who said it, with her turned up nose and disapproving scowl. They'd come to camp and he'd refused to cede them the archery range, challenging them to shoot with him if they thought they were so good. Not all of them had been able to out-shoot him, despite their age and enhanced abilities, and he hadn't been gracious about it.

Looking back now, he realised that she was probably his half-sister, that the split hesitation in her words might have been her holding back from saying my, or even our. At the time, he'd thought it aimed as an insult and had demanded what was wrong with that.

She hadn't answered.

Michael isn't the golden child with looks like a model and an easy charm that endears him to most. He isn't a typical child of Apollo the way many of his siblings are, with their healing touches and powerful songs.

But there's still no denying that he's his father's son, and Michael? He's proud to be.

[roman-writing]

A Study in Hospitality (1/?)

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses / Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Pairing: Hilda Valentine Goneril / Marianne von Edmund

Rating: T

Wordcount: 8,395

Summary: There’s a new student at camp half-blood. Hilda, daughter of Aphrodite, has been tasked with showing her around. A Percy Jackson and the Olympians AU

Author’s note: I’m so predictable for writing this…..

read it below the cut, or you can read it here on AO3

“The assignment was to fall in love.

The details were up to you.”

-Louise Gluck, ‘Averno’ 

–

Everyone was always excited whenever a new batch of half-bloods rolled into camp. Not that many of them would admit it, Hilda included. Mostly they pretended to be bored at the concept of introducing new students to the grounds, in the hopes that they would come off as cool and aloof.

Unlike the others however, Hilda didn’t have to try very hard. She could pull off cool any time, any day. And everyone knew it. 

So, when a sleek black limousine rolled up, students idled around the camp’s main square in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the new blood. The windows of the car were darkly tinted, which meant that nobody could get a good look inside. Honestly, it looked more like a hearse than anything else.

Hilda leaned against a pillar, and twirled a lock of shockingly pink hair around one finger. She arched a curious eyebrow at the limo as it rumbled to a halt with a high whine of brakes. 

It could use some new brake fluid. Technically speaking she could do it, but she wouldn’t be caught dead beneath the hood of a vehicle. She had an image to uphold. Not to mention the havoc it would wreak on her manicure.

“My money is on Ares,” Claude said beside her. 

Hilda rolled her eyes. “You say that every time.”

“Because I’m right.”

“I hope not. The last thing we need is more meat-heads.” Hilda scrunched up her nose at a few other students loitering nearby, who were all clearly in Ares Cabin. One of them was challenging another to do push-ups. Hilda watched as the challenge was accepted with gusto.

Shirts came off, and the two boys dropped to the grass of the central field. For all their faults, at least the children of Ares had some rockin’ bods. 

Claude nudged her, and she dragged her reluctant attention away from the Ares boys.

The driver had stepped out of the vehicle. An honest to god butler-looking guy, complete with waistcoat and spotless white gloves. He rushed to one of the passenger doors, and opened it.

An old man unfolded from the bone-white leather seats inside. His suit was ashen but impeccable and pinstriped. He had silver hair and a hatchet face. When he stood to his full spindly height, he seemed to loom despite his heron’s stoop and the silver-headed cane clutched in his hand. 

He was no god – at least none that Hilda recognised – though he could not have been fully mortal. Mortals couldn’t cross the camp lines. 

Seteth stepped forward. When he nodded his head, it was like a bow of deference. “Margrave Edmund, thank you for joining us. You are most welcome here. I will look after your daughter personally.”

Hilda and Claude exchanged puzzled glances. Generally Seteth preferred a more hands off approach, letting professors Hanneman and Manuela take charge of lectures and whatnot. Seteth only ever dealt with individual students for special cases. Like delivering punishments, or handing out missions.

The Margrave had eyes like pale and tarnished coins. He bowed his head in return. “Thank you, Cichol. I entrust her to your care.”

A strange shiver ran through the earth at the sound of Seteth’s true Titan name. Seteth himself seemed unperturbed by the casual use of it. Meanwhile Hilda was left wondering how the hell this guy – fancy titles or no – managed to get away with using that name without being struck down by spears of light from the heavens.

“What daughter?” Hilda whispered.

Even as she spoke, another figure stirred within the shadows of the limousine. A girl stepped from the vehicle after her father. Hilda blinked in surprise. Most newcomers were young. They tended to be anywhere between ten and fifteen years of age, when they first arrived at camp half-blood. But this girl could not have been under the age of twenty, or Hilda would eat crow.

She was tall, thin, and gaunt as a blade. She wore a dark dress that made her dark eyes appear even larger and more lustrous. There was an odd quality to her pale hair, like the sheen of blued steel. Hilda might have thought it were dyed, if this girl didn’t look like the least likely candidate for hair dyeing. Her skin held a pallor as though she rarely saw the sun, and she seemed to shrink away from the bright early afternoon light. 

The driver pulled a black suitcase from the boot of the limo, and deposited it at her feet. When he got a bit too close to her, she shied away from him. She tried to mask it as though she were reaching up to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. It did little to help her overall bedraggled personal appearance. Next to her sleek half-mortal father, she appeared disheveled, and not in an artful way. Honestly, Hilda probably could have tied a better messy bun in her sleep. 

Claude leaned over and whispered to Hilda, “My bet is rich heiress of old money.”

“Hmm…” Hilda took a moment to consider her best guess. “I’m going to go with: orphan adopted by screwball philanthropist.”

“Twenty bucks?”

“Oh, you’re on, pretty boy.”

They shook hands. 

“Marianne,” Seteth said with another of his pseudo-bows, “It is lovely to meet you. Please, if there’s anything I can do to improve your stay, let me know.”

For a moment she said nothing. She seemed afraid that Seteth was going to bite her or something. When she did finally speak, her voice was soft and tremulous. “Thank you.”

After speaking, she looked to Margrave Edmund as if for confirmation that she had said the right thing. He gave her none. Indeed, he did not so much as put his hand on her shoulder for comfort before nodding towards Seteth and folding himself back up into the limo. 

The driver – butler? whatever – shut the door behind him, then trotted around to his own door. Marianne did not turn to watch the limo go, though at one point her dark eyes flickered in the direction of the dust plumes that rose in its wake. Immediately however, Marianne lowered her gaze to her own feet. 

When the limo had gone from sight, Seteth gestured towards the suitcase. “Allow me.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll take it.” Marianne picked up the bag before Seteth could even reach for it. She spoke so softly, it was difficult to hear her over the raucous noise of the nearby Ares boys. 

Claude hummed a contemplative note under his breath. “Either the heiress has something in that bag she doesn’t want anyone to see, or she isn’t as pampered as I’d originally thought.”

Hilda shot him a dirty look. “Why do you always think someone is hiding something?”

“Because they usually are.”

“Well, newsflash, but it reflects poorly on your own character. Just - y’know - an FYI.”

He shushed her, craning his neck as though it would help him better overhear what was going on further down the field. Seteth was leading Marianne across the centre of the field, the exact opposite direction from cabin eleven. 

“Not an undetermined, then,” Claude muttered to himself. “Aphrodite?”

At the sound of her own mother, Hilda snorted. “Aphrodite? Not likely. Look at her, and then look at me.”

“Alright, point taken. So, Athena, then.”

“I dunno,” Hilda tongued at the inside of her cheek. “She seems a bit dreary, even for the Athena kids.”

Hilda and Claude watched from beneath the shelter of decorative white-marble pillars, as Seteth led Marianne across the field. A number of other curious faces also turned to follow their path, eager to learn of where this newcomer fell into their ranks. 

Seteth stopped before the Demeter cabin, and knocked on the door. 

“Wait, really?” Claude said. “She doesn’t seem like a child of Demeter.”

“Wow. Prejudiced, much?”

Claude pointed towards a small cluster of the Demeter kids that had emerged from the cabin to greet their newest member. “Just look at them. And then look at her.”

Hilda pursed her lips at having her own words thrown back at her. But she had to admit, he had a point. She didn’t tell him that, though. His head wouldn’t fit on his shoulders otherwise. Children of Apollo were almost always predisposed towards a certain cocky arrogance, and he had it in spades.

But the new girl definitely didn’t look anything like the other children of Demeter. Where Marianne was narrow and gaunt, the Demeter kids were homey and apple-cheeked. When Mercedes, the head of Demeter cabin, stood beside Marianne, the contrast could not have been more stark. Mercedes held out her hand to shake, but Marianne backed away a step as if the thought of being touched repulsed her. 

Claude gave a sympathetic wince. “Oooh, chilly.” 

“Okay, okay if you’re so sure that she’s undetermined, then why doesn’t Seteth just put her in with the Hermes kids like all the others?” Hilda asked.

“I don’t know,” Claude mused. He had that look on his face he always got when he stumbled across a particularly convoluted puzzle. “But I intend to find out.”

Hilda patted him on the shoulder. “Well, good luck with that.”

When she turned to walk away, intent on heading back towards the arts and crafts centre to work on her latest jewelry piece, Claude called after her. “Wait -? You really don’t care about getting to the bottom of this?”

“Nope!” Without looking back, she waved at him. “Later!”

–

Before the day could end – heck, even before dinner – Hilda ran into Seteth on the path between the mess hall and the cabins. She only caught sight of him at the last second as she was rounding the bend and humming to herself, when it was far too late to leap into the bushes and hide. Just her luck. 

Raising her hand, Hilda greeted him with a cheeriness that was way too over the top. “Oh, Seteth! Good day to you, and farewell!”

And with that, she turned heel and began power walking in the opposite direction. Screw dinner. She could sneak into the dining pavilion later. 

“Just a moment, Hilda. How are you feeling?”

With a low groan, Hilda stopped in her tracks. She closed her eyes, and took a moment to gather herself before she could turn back towards him with a forced smile on her face. “Oh! Ah, fine! I’m - I’m doing just fine. Thank you so much for asking!”

His eyes were a piercing green. He never seemed to need to blink. “Is that so? I’d heard you had fallen ill to a headache, and one of your fellow colleagues took over your duties of sweeping the armoury for the day. How thoughtful of them.” 

“Well, you know how it is.” Hilda rocked back and forth between heel and toe. “My friends are just so kind and helpful like that.”

“Indeed. You should count your blessings that you have been so favoured.” His stare bore into her as though he were balancing her very spirit on the bronzed edge of a sword. 

“Oh, I do! I - uh - I definitely do. Count. Every day.” A nervous little laugh escaped her at that. She could hear her voice strain slightly beneath the charmspeak laced into her words. She never could refrain from a bit of hypnotism when she was angry or nervous. It was a bad habit from her younger days. 

Of course, it did nothing to Seteth. The magic washed over him like water from a duck’s back. “Excellent. I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “In fact, now that I know you have recovered, I have an assignment for you.”

Hilda’s heart skipped a beat. An assignment? She hadn’t been given an assignment in, like, years. 

Okay. Maybe it had only been six months. But that was forever ago. This camp was only so big, and even if she wasn’t a year-rounder, she was so bored. 

She immediately brightened. “Well, why didn’t you say so! Let’s hear it, then.”

Seteth’s hands were clasped behind his back in an officious pose. He looked like a statue. One of those stiff Egyptian ones. “I take it you, along with the rest of the camp, have heard about the newest addition to our ranks? Marianne von Edmund?”

“Yes,” Hilda said slowly, wondering if this was some sort of trick question. “Is she going to be joining me on the mission or something?” 

“Hardly. Marianne doesn’t know anybody here, and I need you to do what you do best.”

“Which is -?” Hilda made a gesture with her hands, implying that Seteth should expand upon that topic. She was very good at a great many things. He was going to need to be a bit more specific.  

“Befriend her, of course,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. She frowned in puzzlement. “What? Why me?”

“Because you are one of the camp’s most senior students -”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“- And because you know everyone, and everyone knows you. Which means that you can be a conduit for her to the rest of the camp. Introduce her to others. Make her feel at home.”

“Uhhhh everyone knows you, too. Why can’t you show her around?”

Seteth’s brows drew down. “I am the camp overseer. I have many duties to attend to, and while I hate to admit it, I cannot be everywhere at once. I am asking you to do this because I know you are the most capable for the job.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to expect too much from me?”

“At least once more.” Something like the faintest hint of a smile touched the corners of Seteth’s mouth before vanishing once again. “Truth be told, I have always harboured high hopes for you. Especially after having trained your brother.”

It was true. Holst used to be the head of Aphrodite cabin. Everyone expected Hilda to do the same, which is exactly why she didn’t. 

Head of a Cabin? Yikes. Way too much responsibility. 

Hilda made a face. “No, thank you. And why can’t Mercedes have this assignment? She’s the head of Demeter cabin. She’s the one who should be showing her newbie the ropes.”

“It is important that Marianne is made to feel at home here. Unless you would like to excuse yourself from the sacred duties of hospitality?”

At that, Hilda’s blood ran cold. If there was one thing you did not mess with, it was xenia, the sacred concept of hospitality. She’d heard stories of those who broke the rules of hospitality, and she rather liked keeping her organs arranged in the way they currently were, thanks. 

With a huff, Hilda crossed her arms and accepted her fate. “Ugh. Fine. Whatever.”

“You are disappointed,” Seteth said. It was not a question.

“Well, yeah,” Hilda mumbled. She scraped the toe of her shoe against the ground, sketching out a misshapen heart in the dirt. “When you said ‘assignment,’ I thought you meant with, like, weapons. And monsters. And going out there." 

She gestured towards the treeline in the West, which demarcated the camp from the rest of the world. 

Seteth looked in the direction indicated with a heavy, thoughtful expression. "Trust me when I tell you, Hilda, that this assignment is the most important you will receive during your time here.”

Hilda snorted. “What? Showing around The Marquise Mopey?”

At that, Seteth’s eyes flashed. He looked at her, and she paled. In his face she could see the blood-drenched earth, the frenzied clash of spear and shield from time immemorial. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was not in fact the soft-spoken gentleman façade he wore, but one of the five Kouretes. Ancient, Titan-born, and brother of the Furies. A deity of wild mountainsides, an inventor of rustic arts, the first of the armoured warrior-gods.

His voice was soft yet dangerous; it bore the weight of millenia when he spoke, “If I hear that you have been anything but kind and generous to our guest, you will answer to me personally. Do you understand?”

Hilda held up her hands as if to fend off a physical blow. “Woah! Relax. I wasn’t going to be all mean girls towards her, or anything. I love making friends!“

In an instant, the intensity faded from his gaze as though it had never been, though the air around him still seemed too warm. Or perhaps that was just the early summer heat. "Good. Then you’ll have no issue attending dinner with her.”

“Wait, you mean, like, right now?”

He arched a cool eyebrow at her. “Is that a problem?”

“What? No! Not at all! I’m going to crush this assignment. You’ll see. I’m hospitality incarnate.” Hilda ran a hand through her hair, and lifted her chin. “Hell, I’m the most charming person in this place! How hard can it be?”

–

As it turned out, it was hard. Very hard. 

For starters, Marianne was difficult to even track down. Hilda looked everywhere. Demeter Cabin was empty, but for Ashe, who was watering the plants out front even though he could make them grow just by snapping his fingers. He claimed Marianne hadn’t spoken more than two words to him since her arrival, before she promptly vanished like smoke. The last he heard, Mercedes and Seteth had been giving her a tour of the camp.

It took Hilda over an hour to find her. By the end, she had given up on asking people if they had seen a tall, morose newcomer since her arrival, because nobody had. Not a single soul. It wasn’t until Hilda had well and truly given up – honestly, screw this; she was hungry and it was dinner time – that she spotted her. Hilda was emerging from the armoury, having given up all hope, when she blinked. 

There, wandering at the edge of the forest, was Marianne. The dark blue of her long dress blended into the shadows of the woods. She looked like a lost spirit, the setting sun chasing her footsteps but never truly reaching her. As though the light were afraid to touch even the delicate gold embroidery of her hems. 

Hilda lifted her hands to her mouth, and yelled, “Hey! Hey, you by the forest!! Yeah, you!”

At the first sound of Hilda’s voice, Marianne had stopped. She pointed to herself, then looked over her shoulder, as though there were the off chance Hilda was actually addressing a tree behind her or something. 

“Don’t move! Just stay right there!” Hilda started jogging over, and boy if that wasn’t dedication then she didn’t know what was. These heels were not made for running. Seteth had better give her such a good fucking score on this assignment. 

Hilda slid to a halt, nearly tripping as her heels caught on a loose stone in the ground. But she made the recovery as gracefully as she could manage. Which was super graceful. Divinely graceful, even. Well, semi-divine anyway. Close enough. 

Luckily, Marianne followed instructions. She had not moved. Now, she blinked languidly at Hilda, her expression guarded, her stance tense, as though she were ready to bolt at any sudden movements. 

Hilda pointed into the thick darkness of the forest. “You really shouldn’t go out into the forest alone. There are all sorts of monsters in there. Didn’t Seteth or Mercedes tell you that? Honestly!”

Marianne glanced towards the woods, but she seemed curious rather than afraid. “What kind of monsters?”

“I dunno. Minotaurs. Dragons. Hellhounds. All sorts.”

“Right,” Marianne said slowly. “And those…are bad?”

Hilda stared at her. “Yes. Yes, those are very bad.”

Marianne’s shoulders caved inwards as she seemed to shrink away from her. “Sorry.”

Oh, geesh. As far as first exchanges went, they were off to a bad start. Shit. Dazzle time. 

“No, I’m sorry. I’m being very rude.” Hilda straightened to her full height, which barely reached Marianne’s chin even when Marianne slouched like she was now. Hilda smiled as brilliantly as she knew how – which was Very Brilliant, let’s be honest – and held out her hand. “I’m Hilda. You’re Marianne, right? Nice to meet you!”

“Oh. Um - Hello.” Marianne did not take her hand. Instead, she lifted her own to her chest, and gave a nervous flutter of her fingers before clenching her hand into a fist beneath her collarbone. 

A long moment of silence passed. Hilda lowered her hand. She tried to think of some way to break the ice, but each time a topic came to mind, it sloughed out of reach as though Marianne’s very presence rejected friendly conversation. Like trying to push together a set of repelling magnets.

It was the first time Hilda had ever been at a complete loss in a social situation. She wasn’t sure she liked it. 

Eventually, Marianne said, “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at interacting with people.”

“What? No! It’s fine. You’re fine,” Hilda lied. “I’m just glad I found you when I did. Next time you come out here, be sure to bring a friend. That’s all.“

Marianne stared at her as though she were a hydra and had grown an extra head. "I don’t have friends.”

“Well, that’s very rude of you. I’m right here, thank you very much.” Hilda grinned, and brushed some of her long hair over one shoulder with a flounce. 

If anything Marianne appeared taken aback. Her head jerked as if she had been struck, and she looked Hilda over. “What -?”

“No, no, you don’t need to say anything. A simple ‘thank you’ will suffice.”

“Th - Thank you?”

“You’re very welcome. Hey. It’s dinner time. Want to walk with me to the dining pavilion? I’ll point out everyone to you, so you know names and stuff. Sound good?”

“Um -”

“Great. C'mon! It’s this way.”

Gesturing for Marianne to follow, Hilda started walking in the direction of the dining pavilion. For a moment she heard no movement behind her. Then, hesitant footsteps. Marianne walked silently; Hilda could barely hear the rustle of leaves and the press of earth in every step. Hilda talked as they walked. She pointed out various landscapes and features, revealing hidden information about them that absolute squares like Seteth wouldn’t have told their newest member.

“If you want a really good time,” Hilda said as they strode along the pathway that followed the lake, “Take a dip in here at night.”

“What monsters are in the lake at night?”

“Absolutely none. It’s just fun!” Then Hilda amended, “Well, that’s not strictly true. I mean, there are totally monsters living in there. But the point is that at night the water is still all warm from the day, so it’s really nice. Plus it’s about the adventure of it, you know?”

That only seemed to puzzle Marianne all the more. Still, Hilda glanced over to find Marianne studying the lake with a faint gleam of curiosity in her eyes. 

Hilda winked. “I’ll take you out one night. It’ll be fun!”

Ducking her head, Marianne mumbled, “I’m not a very good swimmer.”

“No time like the present! Am I right?”

“I guess.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a great teacher. And I definitely won’t let you drown, or get eaten by a monster, or die, or - y’know -” Hilda shrugged. “- whatever. Because that’s what friends are for.”

To that, Marianne made no reply. She offered no further comments, allowing Hilda to carry the conversation all the way to the pavilion perched over the edge of the lake. Hilda was all too happy to do so; she filled up the silence with idle chatter. And yet, she never once got the impression that Marianne wasn’t listening. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

The sun was setting over the hills by the time they arrived at the pavilion. Their shadows lengthened along the ground. Hilda noticed but made no comment on how Marianne’s shadow was nearly twice as long as her own. Marianne was taller, after all. That must have been the reason why. 

The dining pavilion had not walls, only pillars lined with torches, but rain and wind never seemed to be able to get inside. Other students were already crowding the large tables that surrounded a central brazier bearing a bed of red-hot coals. Hilda stopped at the edge of the pavilion, and turned to Marianne. 

“Alright, first thing’s first. You can’t sit at another god’s table. That’s just the rules. So, you’ll be over there.” Hilda waved her hand towards the Demeter table, where Mercedes and Ashe were already seated. 

For some reason, that made Marianne shrink a bit more. She tugged at the ends of her long sleeves so that her hands were partially covered. The action reminded Hilda of a turtle trying to retract into its shell. “What if there’s nobody else in your Cabin?”

“Then you sit alone, unless you get special permission. It sucks. I know. But it’s only for meal times and sleeping. And luckily you and I don’t have to worry about that. Anyway, that brings us to our next point.” Hilda began to tick off names on her ringed fingers. “Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades Cabins are all empty. The Big Three haven’t had kids in, like, centuries, because their kids are always too powerful and kind of a pain in the neck or whatever. Hera Cabin and Artemis Cabin are also empty because goddess of marriage and goddess of virgins. Don’t like philandering, blah blah blah. You know the drill. Then we have the rest.”

Hilda pointed out each group in turn throughout the mess hall. “You already know the Demeter kids, so I won’t bother. There’s Hermes Cabin over there. Wanderers and thieves and lost souls. Undetermined kids go there, too. Anna is their leader. She’s the oldest student here. Don’t take bets with her. You’ll lose every time.”

Hilda moved along to the next group. Two of them had their noses in books while eating. “Athena Cabin. Nerds. All of them. Edelgard’s the boss there. Don’t let her pretty face fool you; she’s always calculating something behind the scenes. Or at least I always get that impression.”

“Then there’s the Apollo kids.” Hilda waved at Claude, who had caught sight of her. “That’s Claude. He sucked up the arrogance and charisma of all the other Apollo kids, but he’s not a bad guy at heart.”

“Next to them is Dionysus Cabin. Always check any food or drink they serve you. Enough said. There’s Hephaestus Cabin over there. Messy and creative. My people at heart if not by blood.” 

Hilda’s hand drifted towards the next table along, the largest of the bunch filled with rowdy teens and twenty-somethings all with more muscles than sense. "And of course Ares Cabin. Just a bunch of guys being dudes. Dudes being guys. And also Petra is there. She’s pretty nice actually. Just don’t get on her bad side. She loves a fight more than anyone else I know. And if anyone gives you any trouble, you tell me and I’ll kick their asses for you. Got it?”

Marianne nodded, wide-eyed and attentive.

“Which leaves Aphrodite Cabin, full of the greatest people you’ll ever meet, including -” Hilda gestured to herself with a stunning smile, “- yours truly.“

At that, Marianne asked in a faint yet curious tone, "Are you the leader of Aphrodite Cabin?”

Hilda scrunched up her nose as though at a bad smell. “Gross. No way. I leave that job to Lorenz, thanks.”

“Oh,” Marianne ducked her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you, or -”

But Hilda waved her away. “Nah, you’re fine. Don’t worry about it. Let’s go grab some food. Oh! Before I forget.” Hilda pointed out the central firepit. “Remember to leave a bit of your food, so you can offer it to the gods after we eat. Very important. Don’t skip that step.”

Marianne nodded solemnly. Then again, solemn just seemed to be her natural state of being.

“Okay! See you later, then!” And with that, Hilda flounced off towards her own table.

Behind her, Marianne floundered for a moment, before drifting over towards the other Demeter kids, who greeted her with smiles. Hilda watched as Marianne did not return them, just sat as far away from the others, so that she was perched on the very corner of the bench. 

This was going to be a lot harder than Hilda had originally thought.

With a resigned sigh, Hilda tucked into her own meal. No sooner had she picked up her knife and fork however, than she felt something soft smack into the back of her head. A rolled up napkin landed on the table by her elbow.

Hilda looked at Sylvain, who was sitting directly opposite her. “Don’t tell me. It’s Claude, isn’t it?”

Sylvain grinned around his fork, pulling the utensil out of his mouth to answer, “Well, if you want a break from the guy, I’m always free.”

“Funny,” Hilda replied in a complete monotone. She twisted around in her seat. Sure enough, Claude was trying to catch her eye.

He lobbed something else towards her. This time, it was a little origami paper airplane with a wedge-like arrow shape. It flew straight and true, landing directly by Hilda’s plate. Groaning, Hilda unfolded the paper and read its contents. 

‘I thought you said you weren’t interested in the newblood?’

“Do you have a pen?” Hilda held out her hand towards Sylvain.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he handed her a tube of unused lipstick. She arched an eyebrow at him.

Sylvain shrugged. “It’s all I’ve got. Take it or leave it.”

Shrugging, Hilda uncapped the tube, gave its base a twist, and wrote her reply in bold scarlet. “Who even uses this shade?” she muttered under her breath. “I mean, I could totally pull it off, but -”

Sylvain had returned to his meal, but he said firmly, “I want it back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” 

Hilda finished. She capped the lipstick and handed it back over to Sylvain. Then, she turned to toss the paper airplane back towards Claude. Whatever magic he had infused in it while folding its edges still remained, for it ducked and dipped around other students right for him like a bird in flight. Hilda did not wait to see his reaction to her reply, which read:

‘Seteth asked me to look after her. And no, I won’t help you with whatever you’re planning.’

She was a few bites into her meal, when the airplane returned. She crumpled it into a ball, and chucked it into the brazier, where it burned. Behind her, Hilda could hear Claude’s sound of outrage. Sylvain snickered into his cup. 

From where Hilda sat, Marianne was just within view. Her slouched shoulders, her head bowed. Hilda watched with mild interest, as other students at her table attempted to engage her in conversation. Even those from other tables who were near enough tried to lean over and introduce themselves. They were all rebuffed. One by one. Without fail. 

Eventually, Marianne had finished with her meal. Or perhaps she was simply finished with being in so crowded a space. She was a slow eater, but she was one of the first to rise from her seat. She picked morosely at her food, as though everything tasted like ash. And when she approached the brazier in the centre of the tables, her plate was still mostly full. 

Marianne scraped her food into the brazier, and murmured something under her breath. The coals leapt to life with a dull roar, like the sound of distant waves against the shore. The flames burned a hot, pale, hungry blue, searing the food to white ash. 

The entire dining pavilion fell silent. The clink of cutlery faded. People turned to stare. Marianne stood before the brazier, clutching her plate and knife, glancing around at all the stunned faces. She set the plate and knife down, then scurried from the pavilion, her head lowered.

After she had gone, people resumed their eating, but slowly. Over the heads of the other tables, Claude mouthed to Hilda: ‘What the fuck was that?’

Hilda shrugged at him, and then pretended to ignore the rest of his gestures for the remainder of the night. 

–

Hilda did not think about Marianne for the rest of the evening. She went back to the arts centre, and finished off a new bangle she had been working on for the last two weeks. Even then, she was not completely satisfied with it, and tossed it back into the forge for one of the Hephaestus kids to re-smelt into something. 

After giving up on that piece, Hilda went back to the drawing board. She pulled out a notebook and pencil, and began sketching out ideas for a brooch. Or maybe a hair pin. It could have been either. The forge blazed on the other side of the room. This area of camp was always populated, even in the earliest hours of the morning or the latest hours at night. Someone could always be found tinkering away on something. And tonight that person was Hilda.

She eventually wandered back to her cabin, but only when the designs all started bleeding together. Rubbing at her eyes with a yawn, she went about washing her face, changing her clothes, and crawling into the top bunk that had been assigned to her years ago. She could hear Sylvain snoring on the opposite side of the cabin, and was tempted to throw a pillow at him to get him to roll over. 

At some point, she had fallen asleep. The next thing she knew, a pinkish light was filtering through the tinted windows right into her face. To make things worse, Lorenz was swanning about, handing out that week’s chore list to everyone. 

He reached her bunk bed. “Hilda.”

Hilda pulled a pillow over her head, and rolled over.

Lorenz circled around to the other side of the bunk bed, so he could wave her chore list in her face. “I know you’re awake.”

“No, I’m not,” Hilda groaned, her voice muffled beneath the pillow.

He swatted at her pillow with the folded up piece of paper, until she gave up and snatched it from his hand. 

“There,” he said smugly. “Was that really so hard?”

“Not all of us are up with the larks every morning,” Hilda grumbled, but he was already striding away to dish out everyone else’s responsibilities. 

Not bothering to sit up, Hilda hung her head over the side of the bed so that her long untidy hair fell over the side. She rubbed at one eye as she read over the week’s chores. 

Monday - 0900 to 1100 - Cooking Duties - Hilda Goneril and Marianne von Edmund

Tuesday -  1100 to 1430 - Pegasus Stable Duties - Hilda Goneril and Marianne von Edmund

Wednesday - 1500 to 1700 - Gardening Duties - Hilda Goneril and Marianne von Edmund

…Now, hang on just a damn second. 

Hilda rubbed at her other eye to make sure she was reading everything right. She frowned at the page, and held it a little closer to her face. 

Okay. She was definitely reading that right. Apparently hospitality homework extended to more than just a quick Intro to Camp 101. But really, Seteth didn’t have to go out of his way to pair them up for everything. It wasn’t like she was going to try to wriggle out of her assignment. That was just insulting. And completely untrue.

Hilda let her arm flop to the side, and the page of chores fluttered to the floor from her grip. She covered her eyes with her other hand, and groaned. Honestly this should’ve been the easiest assignment ever. If not for the fact that Marianne was so much work. 

“Is something the matter?” Lorenz asked from across the room.

“No,” Hilda sighed, dragging her hand down her face. “Everything’s just peachy.”

– 

The first chore was cooking. Or rather, it was preparing lunch meals for a group of younger students going out into the forest for the first time with Manuela. 

It went poorly. Neither of them were very good in the kitchen. Which was odd, because Demeter kids were all great at cooking. It was one of their Things. Right alongside having a greenthumb that would make an eighteenth century English landscaper cream himself. 

The food wasn’t disastrous, by any stretch of the imagination. They got the meals ready and packaged in time. But nothing tasted that great, and there was an awful lot of mess left over afterwards, which meant that Hilda moaned about having to clean up the whole time. All the while, Marianne remained silent, looking like she was at a loss on how to use a modern sink to wash the cutting boards. Like she’d been dumped into the present day from hundreds of years ago. 

Hilda did the bulk of the talking for the whole two hours. Every now and then, Marianne would make a noise, like a soft hum at the back of her throat, as if that were her sole form of contribution to the conversation. Once – shockingly – she even asked if Hilda could pass her a knife. When their fingers almost brushed along the handle, Marianne dropped the blade and stuttered on her apologies for two whole minutes. 

So, yeah. This assignment kind of sucked so far.

–

Monday passed without much incident. At ten minutes past eleven on Tuesday, Hilda wandered up to the pegasus stables for their shared chores. Marianne was already there. She had a handful of carrots, and was feeding one to a pegasus. The beast’s head leaned out of his stall as far as he could go in an attempt to get closer to the source of the treats. 

"Don’t be greedy,” Marianne chided softly. Even so, she fed the pegasus another carrot.

“Heyoo,” Hilda greeted. 

Marianne almost dropped the carrots in one hand. She turned to see Hilda striding towards her. “Oh. Good afternoon, Hilda. You’re looking - uh - well.”

“Thanks.” Hilda did not even take offense to the belated attempt at praise. It was more than Marianne had been able to muster up over the last two days, which meant progress. Baby steps. They would get there. Eventually. Very eventually.

Stopping beside Marianne, Hilda nodded towards the pegasus, which was still chewing on the end of the carrot. “You’re awfully good with them. Normally, they hate me.”

The pegasus spoke while still chewing, his words punctuated with loud crunching noises. “I don’t hate you. That’s quite a strong word. I’m indifferent about you.”

Hilda scowled. “That’s even worse, Grass-Head.” 

“My name,” the pegasus said in as acidic a tone as psychic words could convey, “is Minty.” 

Hilda rolled her eyes. “Oh, like that’s any better.”

“I like horses,” Marianne admitted. “My father used to let me ride his sometimes.”

At that, Minty stamped his hoof, which scraped against the stall door. “I would really appreciate it if you didn’t ride me. You smell like rotten eggs. But if you keep the carrots coming, I’ll let you pet me.”

“How generous,” Hilda drawled.

On the other hand Marianne hastily offered another carrot. Minty grabbed it between his teeth and began to chew, while Marianne reached up to pat his head and play with his silky forelock. 

Hilda gave her a sidelong glance. “So,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Your dad had horses?”

Marianne mulled over her words very carefully before responding. “Yes. Four of them. They didn’t talk, though.” 

“Did they still like carrots?”

“Uhm -” 

But Minty answered instead, “All horses love carrots.” He snuffled around Marianne’s hand, trying to reach the other bunch of carrots held there. 

“There are other pegasi here,” Hilda pointed out. Indeed, a number of other pegasi were watching this exchange from their own stalls, their heads eagerly extended above the doors.

“Ignore those guys,” Minty said. “They definitely don’t want these.”

“Greedy asshole,” Hilda muttered under her breath.

“I heard that.”  

“Whatever.” Hilda jerked her thumb over her shoulder, and said to Marianne, “I’m going to go grab some gloves, pitchforks, and a wheelbarrow. I would highly recommend wearing gloves, yourself.”

“Alright. I’ll come with you.” Marianne gave Minty one last carrot, taking the time to pat him on the head some more, before turning to follow Hilda. 

Marianne spoke a bit more today. Not much more, but a bit. The pegasi all took an interest in her, even if they generally did not want Marianne to touch them unless bribed with treats. They made odd comments about her smell, while remaining generally uninterested in Hilda’s presence entirely. 

Which was rather insulting, really. Hilda was not a person accustomed to being treated with indifference. And charmspeak did not work on pegasi like it did on people. Annoyingly. 

Hilda tried. She received a series of nickers that could only be described as amused in a mocking way. 

Afterwards, Hilda was sweaty and annoyed. She tipped a load of straw into the last stable, and raked it around, while Marianne chatted with the pegasus. If only it were that easy to get Marianne to talk to actual humans. Her sentences were still short and carefully combed of any personal information, but still. 

And at the end of it all, Marianne even offered Hilda a little wave and a hesitant, “See you tomorrow,” before they parted ways for the day. 

Leaning on a pitchfork, Hilda watched her go. “Weird,” she muttered under her breath, when she was sure Marianne was out of earshot.

“Yeah,” Minty said from behind her. “You’re telling me.”

–

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Hilda was just about ready to bail on chores entirely. Honestly, it was a miracle she’d made it this far in the first place. She should have been awarded gold stars for exceeding all expectations. Normally she would have weasled her way out of the week’s responsibilities by Tuesday. 

Not that it had anything to do with Marianne. Because it didn’t. Hilda just hated chores. She had a jewelry project she wanted to work on, some people she wanted to flirt with, and a monster hunt in the forest that sounded like way more fun than gardening. 

Plus, it was hot. The late afternoon sun was an unimpeded glaring yellow dot in the sky, and Hilda was boiling. She fanned herself with a pair of leather pruning gloves. Her eyes were shielded behind a pair of pink-lensed glasses, and her head was covered in a black-ribboned straw hat. 

Marianne stood beside her, hands nervously wringing another pair of gloves together. Whereas the sun glared down upon Hilda in full force, it somehow seemed to miss Marianne. As though she were sidestepping the light entirely. She still wore a dress with long sleeves, and long hems, and a high collar. 

“I honestly don’t know how you’re surviving in all that.”

Marianne blinked in confusion. “What?”

Hilda gestured with the gloves towards Marianne’s clothes. “Aren’t you baking?”

Plucking at her long hems, Marianne said, “No.”

Hilda blew a raspberry, and pulled her gloves on. “Lucky you. Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

An empty flower bed stretched along the ground at their feet. It skirted the edges of one of the main pathways between the cabins and the amphitheatre. The flower bed was narrow, but long, extending over a little hill and out of sight. Even looking at it made Hilda’s knees feel tired. 

She and Marianne had hauled a cart from the garden sheds, laden with trowels, liquid fertilizer, seed packets, and enormous quantities of small sprouting flowers. They had since unloaded all the flowers onto the path, ready to be planted over the next few hours. 

Hilda was picking up a trowel, when it suddenly struck her. She rounded on Marianne, excitement lacing her voice. “Hey, you’re a Demeter kid! That means you’re really good with plants and stuff, right?”

“Uhm -”

“Great! You can just -” Hilda wiggled her gloved fingers at the flower bed “- do that nature magic you guys are so good at, while I clean up. And we’ll be out of here in no time.”

“I don’t think -”

“Don’t worry,” Hilda said, already gathering up all the gardening supplies so that she could carry them back to the shed. She would make the trip in one go if it killed her. Only cowards had to make two trips. “Nobody will care, so long as everything is planted and growing properly. Besides, this way we can both get out early. Hey! I can take you to the lake for some swimming practice! Doesn’t that sound fun? Let’s do that.”

She didn’t give Marianne a chance to answer. She was already grabbing up the cart’s handle, and hauling it back over to the garden shed. 

The trip took a grand total of ten minutes. Feeling triumphant in her cleverness, Hilda sauntered back down the pathway. She was daydreaming about finally casting that new hair pin design in gold, when she rounded the corner, and froze. 

Marianne was kneeling on the ground. In a great circle around her, the seedlings had been arrayed. When Hilda had left, the plants had been green and bright. Now, the leaves and flowers were all black and wilted, and the earth around them dark as if scorched. Faint curls of smoke drifted through the air from the ground, and the smell was rancid. Like sulfur. 

“What -?” Hilda started to say, but she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. 

Marianne jerked to her feet, brushing off the hems of her dress with trembling hands. Before she could get a good look at Marianne’s face, Hilda turned, and found herself face to face with Mercedes, who looked between the two of them in astonishment. 

“Is everything alright?” Mercedes asked. Her eyes widened when she looked at the flowers at Marianne’s feet. “Goodness! What happened?”

"I -” Marianne’s lower lip trembled. She looked to be on the verge of outright tears.

Before she could say anything, Hilda stepped forward. “It was my fault,” Hilda insisted. “You know how I am. I thought I was spraying liquid fertilizer, but I’d accidentally grabbed that magic weed killer Ashe has been developing out in the sheds.”

With a nod of her head, Mercedes hummed. “Yes, that does sound like it would do the trick.”

“I’m so so sorry, Mercedes,” Hilda continued in her most wide-eyed, contrite tone. She smacked herself on the forehead with the palm of her hand. “I can’t believe I was so careless!”

Immediately, Mercedes placed her hands on Hilda’s upper arms, warm and comforting. “Oh, no! Don’t blame yourself! It was an honest mistake, I’m sure. It’s nothing we can’t fix.”

“You think so?” Hilda put a breathless quality into her voice to really sell it. There was no need for charmspeak here. It would probably work on Mercedes, but she didn’t need it. 

Mercedes nodded. “Absolutely.” 

“Thank you so much. You really are a life-saver, Mercedes.”

“No, no. It’s nothing. Helping is the least I can do.”

There were still the seed packets left over. They had escaped whatever magic that had blighted the area around Marianne. In Mercedes’ capable hands, it took a matter of minutes for the seeds to be scattered and growing all along the flowerbed. Still, a dead patch remained in one section of the flowerbed, where the seeds refused to grow, even beneath the force of Mercedes’ magical gifts. 

“How strange,” Mercedes mused, studying the patch with a quizzical tilt of her head. “The soil in this area feels odd. I don’t quite know how to describe it.”

If Marianne’s shoulders could hunch up around her ears any more, then her head would become a part of her chest cavity. 

Hilda tried to distract Mercedes. “You’re amazing,” she gushed. “I wish I had powers like that.”

It worked. Mercedes turned her attention away from the flower bed. “Don’t be silly. You have extraordinary powers yourself, Hilda.”

“Oh, no. Not like you, and the others. You’re incredible. Really.”

Throughout the entire exchange, Marianne remained silent. Her eyes were downcast. Something about the late afternoon light made them appear darker. 

It took another five or so minutes to convince Mercedes that they should part ways without carrying around any suspicions. By the end, Mercedes continued on her way towards the amphitheatre with a merry wave of farewell and a promise to more clearly label the experimental weed killer in the garden shed. 

When she had gone over the hill, leaving the two of them alone, Hilda breathed a sigh of relief. “Phew!” She took off her straw hat, and fanned herself with its wide brim. “That was lucky. Are you alright?”

“I’m - I’m sorry,” Marianne mumbled. She refused to meet Hilda’s gaze. “You shouldn’t have had to do - I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry.”

Before she could think to stop herself, Hilda reached out to place a hand on Marianne’s shoulder. But before she could touch her, Marianne recoiled. 

“Please, don’t,” Marianne gasped. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. She wiped at them with the backs of her hands, and staggered away a step. “Don’t touch me. Don’t -”

Hilda opened her mouth to speak, but Marianne had already turned tail and was stumbling away. She did not bother to take the path, and instead fled directly across the field. The ground in her wake bore dark blistering marks in the shape of her footprints, as though her every step were bleeding the earth dry. 

Hat in hand, Hilda stared after her. “What,” she muttered, “the fuck?” 

–

NOTES:

The title is a reference to “A Study in Scarlet.” Not that there’s any murder in this story, just to allude that there is a mystery

This AU does not perfectly follow the Percy Jackson world. It just takes some of the main tenants from it. eg/ the Titan Wars are over, and many Titans (such as Seteth) have successfully integrated with the rest. And yes I know that if the Hades cabin is there, I should include the others to make up the full twenty. But I’m lazy.

None of the Percy Jackson characters will be making an appearance. It’s just our FE crew here. 

[dyde21]

Tricked

This is a mild vent piece, based off the Bronze Dragon short story from The Demi God Files, and a lot of thinking I’ve done about Annabeth and Percy and some tropes that really bug me about them. Anyway, I hope you can enjoy this kinda cute short story!

XxXxXxXxX

“Are you sure you want to do this, Seaweed Brain?”

Annabeth asked, leaning against the pillar as she looked at her boyfriend practicing with his sword. He was in the training arena, and had discarded his shirt so Annabeth was certainly enjoying the view.

He went through with a few more slashes, before capping his sword and putting it back in his pocket. He turned around, out of breath as he looked at her with a grin that usually crept on his face when he saw her.

She watched some sweat drip down the side of his face, dropping onto his shoulder. Her eyes trailed a little more downwards. Geez, her boyfriend was getting hotter with age and it wasn’t fair but entirely welcome. Feeling her cheeks start to flush, she quickly threw his shirt at him as she looked away, biting her lip.

“He pulled the shirt off his face and pulled it on quickly. “It’s just one match. It’s been a while.”

Annabeth nodded, now that he was a little more modest and less distracting.

“I know. But…” She trailed off, reaching an arm over to grab her other arm. She hated saying it, it made her feel weak.

However he seemed to pick up on her. He crossed over and pulled her into a tight hug. 

“I know. I don’t like being against you either. If you don’t want to we can drop out. I just owed the stolls.”

Annabeth shook her head. “It’s fine.” She took a deep breath before looking up at him. “I just feel bad crushing you after so long.”

Percy laughed, tickling her side slightly making her squirm. “I wouldn’t count me out, Wise Girl. I’ve been planning.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Feeling confident are we?”

He shrugged. “I’ve had the best teacher after all.”

Annabeth just laughed. “Bring it.”

Percy smirked, before bending down quickly and scooping her legs up and out front under her, carrying her bridal style.

She laughed and swatted at his chest, before holding her arms around her neck.

“Percy! Put me down!”

He just continued to laugh at her as he carried her towards the dining hall. “I’m hungry.”

She tried to scold him between her fits of laughter. “But I can walk!”

He shrugged with her. Annabeth had to admit she was a little impressed with how well he could carry her. Reaching up, she tilted his chin to give him a proper kiss.

That seemed to be enough of a distraction, and she managed to free herself to stand on her own. 

“Brat.” She muttered, before stepping forward and resuming their kiss. Eventually she took his hand and started leading him back to the hall. “Let’s get lunch now.”

XxXxXxXxX

Crouching behind a bush, Annabeth made sure her hat was on securely as she moved silently through the forest. 

The game had started as usual, her plan being put into action. Their quests had only made Percy a better fighter over time. Usually she could count on him as a force of nature to distract  people, but now that he was a problem instead, that meant she had to take care of him. That also meant that she had to ensure she didn’t get too distracted by him and leave holes in her plan. 

Clarisse was leading the charge for the flag, which meant she would handle defense. She knew her boyfriend well enough to know that he wouldn’t be content sitting around guarding a flag. He would be on the offense.

She just needed a plan, and to keep him away from water. Then they could stand a chance.

Sure enough, before long she saw him. He breezed past some poor first year who encountered him, overwhelming him, disarming him and rushing past. Right where she needed him to go.

Letting out a loud sharp three whistles, she heard her teammates move according to their earlier plans. 

They would be ready. 

Moving off to the side, she continued to follow Percy without engaging him. She had to be patient. His combat senses had gotten even better since he had first arrived.

He burst past some trees, only to see nine campers lined up in a half arc in front of him. 

Will had approached with his bow drawn. “Ready, Jackson?”

She took a step towards him from behind, but saw him crouch down slightly, spinning his word in his hand. The campers faltered for a moment. Was he really going to try and take them on?

Annabeth tensed as she saw Percy take a step forward, before he turned and sprinted back into the woods.

Smirking, Annabeth was glad. He was falling right into her trap.

She continued to follow, speeding up now. He was heading straight towards the river. If he reached it, she wouldn’t be able to touch him.

On cue, two more of her allies darted out from the tears to his side, cutting him off and forcing him to run alongside the river, rather than reaching it. Smirking, she continued to run along with him from a distance. She just needed to tire him out in order to make an opportunity. All it would take would be a moment of hesitation and she could slip in. 

Her boyfriend was much smarter than many believed based off how he acted, she knew in battle he was dangerous to underestimate. So she just had to keep stacking the odds against him until he slipped.

He started to try and cut over to the river, but a few arrows from the Apollo cabin convinced him to keep running instead.

Eventually she saw him stumble a bit, leaning to put his hands on his knees and catch his breath. She almost felt bad for running him around so much. 

Her senses were on overdrive as she crept forward, not making a sound as she approached him from behind, slowly drawing her dagger. 

Striking forward like a snake, she was behind him in an instant, dagger against his throat. 

“Gotcha, honey.” She said, feeling him tense up before she kissed the back of his neck. “Now give me riptide and I’ll escort you back, if you would be so kind.” She said, seeing him slowly extend his hand with riptide out to the side. 

“What, no come back?” She teased, until she saw him dive to the side suddenly. 

Her eyes widened, but before she could react, the sound of a rope being pulled taut made her realize her mistake. 

Before she could move the rope closed around her ankle and shot backwards, throwing her off balance and dragging her a few feet, the fall knocking her hat off her head as she shimmered back into existence. 

“When did you-” She was cut off as Percy was suddenly kneeling on her back, Riptide stuck into the ground inches from her neck.

He quickly took her dagger from her, and she saw her hat sticking out of his back pocket. 

He was grinning at her as he took a step back now that she was disarmed. For safety reasons you couldn’t bind and gag prisoners, but the rules of the game she was caught.

“How did you plant that trap?”

He shrugged. “I’m not too good with ropes. But the stolls are pretty handy with them.”

Glaring at him, she let out a sharp piercing whistle. 

She saw a few more athena kids step out of the bushes as she felt her hopes rise. Her backup had been nearby. 

At least until she saw her hands up, a few hermes kids with their swords at their back.

Annabeth just stared at Percy as he high fived one of them. 

“But there shouldn’t be that many left back in this area…”

He looked at her, his lopsided smile still on her face that was both cute and infuriating at the moment. 

“I made sure we held back on attack until we captured you this time. Come on.” He said, escorting her back towards the prisons for his side. 

Percy escorted her personally, and she was glad to see that he took care of her hat himself rather than letting some other camper handle her treasure. 

“How did you know I’d catch you there?” She asked after a little walking in silence. Her mind was still reeling as she tried to figure out how her plan had gone wrong. 

“Because I lead you there.” He countered. 

Her brow furrowed. “But you were going for the flag.”

Shaking his head, he glanced back at her before walking forward. It was clear he was trying not to gloat or sound smug, probably since he knew her pride wasn’t too happy right now. 

“I wasn’t. I know you, Wise Girl. I knew the second we were enemies, you would find a way to make sure I couldn’t do anything. I knew you would also know whatever I tried to do. You’re too smart for me.” He offered. 

“Says the one escorting a prisoner right now.” She offered, still not fond of hearing him insult his own intelligence. 

“That’s because I had faith in you. I knew whatever I tried to do would probably work into your plans. So I knew I had to be careful and let others take care of things if I was going to beat you. I also knew that you wouldn’t leave stopping me to someone else.”

Annabeth faltered, feeling completely caught. He was right. She knew how strong she was, so she didn’t want to trust anyone else to take care of him. Her pride told her that she needed to do it to do it right. Especially since the other person she would usually count on was him. 

“So I just waited until I inevitably fell into your trap, ran towards where I needed to go, since there was no way you would let me get to the river, and waited. Since you prefer sneaking up with your cap, I stood in place and waited.”

He finished explaining, looking a little proud of himself. 

Annabeth was speechless as they finally reached the prisons as he lead her into it. 

She paused, looking at him. 

“That was brilliant. You completely got me.” She muttered. 

He looked sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Not really. A lot of it was luck. And I could only do it because I know you so well Wise Girl.” Annabeth shook her head, pulling on the front of his shirt to kiss him.

She felt him tense up, his hands moving to his sword and her cap as she smiled into the kiss slightly. He really wasn’t letting his guard down, not that she would use a kiss to trick him. Her affection was something she never wanted him to doubt or be wary of. Eventually, he seemed to get the hint and kissed her back before she stepped back. 

“You’re kind hot when you act all smart.” She confessed to him, laughing at the blush that crept on his cheeks. 

The other guards coughed once awkwardly, making Annabeth curse herself as she realised she was still in public surrounded by other campers as she stepped back and let the prison be closed. 

“I still have more plans out there, be careful, babe.” She warned as she took a seat.

Percy just flashed her a smile, before pulling out her cap and pulling it over his own head and vanishing. “With you? Always.”

Annabeth leaned back, smiling as she heard him run off into the forest. The game was over, Percy was on the top of his game and had outsmarted her today. Their team didn’t stand a chance. Just today, she’d let him have the win. Her pride would be fine with that.

XxXxXxXxX

Thank you for reading! I hope it was okay. I just wanted to try writing the opposite of how I usually see it going. Also because probably one of my biggest pet peeves with writing is people casually using affection with underhanded tactics, and acting like it’s cute. I will always hate Annabeth tricking Percy by kissing him etc. Fooling people you love with affection isn’t cute. Punishing someone you care for trusting you completely isn’t a clever thing, it’s really toxic. Thank you for reading my Ted Talk.

[multifandom-damnation]

They watched Grog cut down enemy after enemy with his axe in a wall of carnage as he laughed.

They watched Vex fire arrows from the sky like a goddess, hidden in the tree brouths and darkening sky.

They watched Vax dodge the bullets fired his way from his friend’s own creation and fling his daggers into enemy skin.

They watched Keyleth survive attacks and cast spells like she had never been knocked down.

They watched Scanlan’s grin grow as strong as the spells he was casting as he cleared out the battlefield alone.

And Percy… They watched him fall.

I’m sorry you guys, I really tried to make this good. As soon as I watched the ep I knew I had to write something but guys… I’m sorry. It’s not very good. I’m so annoyed haha, this took ages. A lot of the dialogue it from the actual ep (all of it I think??) and I know it’s gonna be shitty so maybe just take that into account before you read it xx

They watched him fall.

They watched him fall the first time, watched the necklace break and shatter, watched him get back up. Watched his hands shake so badly his shots missed, watched him growl in silent fury.

The second time, they watched as Ripley shot him with his own creation, watched as he fell to his knees, then face down, watched the burning holes Ripley fired meet their mark, piercing into him, Orthax raking his claws of shadow across his chest. Watched the blood pool around his body like a cape and head like a halo he never asked for.

They watched as his body stopped moving, watched his chest stop rising. Kynan reached for him, turned him over, watched as his eyes stared blankly at the sky. The trickle of blood running along the side of his face and into his hair, dying it red.

Keyleth screamed as Vex flew down on her broom in a fit of fury and fear. Grog roared bloody murder at the spot Ripley once stood, Scanlan with his hands in his hair and silent tears down his face. Vax stood, motionless, in the centre of the crevasse, daggers dangling limply in his fingers, his legs giving out and falling to his knees as he stared at the women he loved most running over, crying next to their friend.

Scanlan moved to grab his sword, Grog yanking the Chain of Returning back a little harder than was necessary, catching his axe in a bone-shattering grip. Keyleth stands, shaking hands covering her face, Vex next to Percy on her knees in the glass, checking his pulse and shaking him. “Can you do anything? As a Paladin?” She cried to her brother, who just shook his head and placed it slowly in his hands.

The zip!, had them turning to where Scanlan and Grog stood. Grog’s axe raised high above his head, froth foaming and falling from his lips. Scanlan’s hand was up, purple energy crackling around his fingers as they watched a purple bubble form around Ripley, encapsulating her in Otilukes Resilient Sphere. She looked around, placing her hands up against the sphere. “What? What the heck is going on?”

“You can curse,” Scanlan snarled, walking closer towards her. “It’s ok. You’ve killed one of us.” He turned back to his group, his friends, his family, now minus one. “Everyone gather around her.” He shouted, waving his sword to get everyone’s attention.

Looking up in shock and horror, Vex shook her head. “I’m not leaving Percy.”

“I’m going to drop this thing, and we’re all going to fucking kill her together.”

“No…” Keyleth mumbled, shaking.

Vax finally brought himself to his feet and turned his back to his brother, dead on the ground, and faced the bitch that took his family from him. “Yes, we are.”

Ripley fired at the wall, throwing everything she had at the barrier, to no effect. She slammed her shoulder into it, shouting, raked her fingers across it, nothing. The dark shadow of Orthax rested below her, under the sphere, trying desperately to get to her.

Scanlan slowly walked over to her, sword in hand. Vax started walking as well, Keyleth catching up and reaching down with a shaking hand to place hers in his. Grog readied his axe. “Vex!” Scanlan shouted.

“No, I’m staying. I’m not leaving Percy.”

“But- “

“I’ll shoot her at a distance!”

Grog put his body right against the orb, Keyleth on his side. Scanlan made his way closer, calling out over his shoulder. “Vax, you with us?”

A moment of heart-wrenching silence and Scanlan almost turned back, “Yes.” Quietly, a breath on the wind, but full of fury. Kynan walked over and joined them as well, as far away from Percy as possible, on the other side of the orb, hands folded on his chest, head bowed.

The bard looked around at the rest of his family. “Ready?”  Keyleth’s hands were shaking, but she turned to face Scanlan when he spoke. Her eyes brimming with free-flowing tears.

Grog snarled. “When you are.” His axe was raised high, and his eyes were red with an unbridled fury.

Scanlan met the eyes of his family, met the tearful eyes of Vox Machina and with whatever energy he had left: “For Percy.”

With her hands pushing against the orb, Ripley tried with all her might to get free, but her spells wouldn’t work, her bullets wouldn’t pierce, her sharp words were dull, her screams fell on deaf ears.

“Percy’s killing you right now,” Scanlan told her, meeting her eyes and her awful twisted grin, teeth too sharp and eyes too brave. He would have to take care of that, the determined look that fooled her into believing that they would ever let her leave the island alive after what she’s done. “Not us.”

He dropped the spell, and they all attacked.

They watched her as she fell in a tangled heap of blood and vines and arrows, watched as her now detached arm fall by her head as Vax sliced if from her body, watched her insides spill out from Grogs cut in her navel, watched her neck snap from Keyleth’s Grasping Vine, watched the blood leak down her face from the bleeding de Rolo crest Scanlan had carved into her, a permeant memory of who she had taken from them.

The shadow of Orthax shudders, wavers, then dissipates, leaving the battlefield silent and frightfully empty.

The twins scouted the cave a mile off. Keyleth cleaned Percy’s cuts, washed away the blood he seemed to be drowning in and weaved flowers through his hair. Grog collected the guns from the corpses littered around the battlefield, standing on their heads until the skulls crumpled like tin-foil. Scanlan came back with a hard onyx figurine in his hand, Kynan walking shyly behind him, and the gnome looked like he was on the edge of screaming.

The twins returned, both trying to hold back tears, Vax with his arm slung around his sister and her head on his shoulder, just as Scanlan summoned the mansion and they all made their way inside with Percy resting in Grogs arms.

It was Vax who shyly suggested that they have a blanket fort, that they all sleep in together with the others’ breathing and heartbeats loud and strong in the room, comforting each other if one woke up screaming from a nightmare with Percy’s name on their lips.  The servants brought all the blankets and pillows they could find and a long ornate table. They put Percy on the table, and Vex covered him with a blanket, a pillow behind his head, and they could almost pretend he was just sleeping, would wake up once Vax stuck a slimy finger in his ear or Grog poured ale on his face.

Fireflies danced above their heads as they fell asleep, and they stared at them in an effort not to reach a hand out to grab their friend, who was just sleeping if they pretended hard enough.

The walk through the sun tree was fast, but the walk to find Pike was agony.

Percy was slung over Grog’s shoulder, the rest of Vox Machina trailing like an armoured guard around them. Whispers, gasps, crying, screams, muttered prayers, half-hearted laughter, begging Pelor to bring Lord Percival back, and Vox Machina stopped and spoke to none.

Serenrae’s temple seemed so far away.

A guard stopped them, eyes bright and mouth a large cheerful grin that reminded the group too harshly of Ripley’s twisted smirk. “You’ve returned! I- “His eyes drifted to Percy’s limp body hanging off Grog, and the words died in his throat before he could say them. “Oh.”

Vex rubbed her arms and leaned forward. “Someone should get Cassandra.” She said quietly, fighting back the tears.

Pikes face once they reached the temple made Grog bite his lip hard enough to taste blood, for Vax to look away, for Scanlan to say nothing.

“I knew something was wrong.” She whispered, brushing hair out of her face. “Where is he?”

They found Orthax feasting on the tattered and ruined soul of Percy and Keyleth severed the thread. Pike called for Serenrae. Vex begged him to come back to them.

The ceremony was hard, it was long, it was horrible, but with a torrent of crows and Vax’s wings outstretched over Percy’s prone body as though they were his own, Percy took a breath, and the holy light lifted filled the room as he opened his eyes.

He was tired, so very tired, and it had felt like a century since he had seen his friends with a beating heart of his own, but they only said it had been a day? It didn’t feel like a day. His eyes were heavy, his lungs filled with jagged glass, and Percy had the suspicion that if they were to open him up to look, he would be filled head to toe with bullets and black glass.

Even Vax who Percy knew didn’t like him- couldn’t stand him, who Percy cared very much for but hoped that Vax wasn’t foolish enough to care the same for him, was looking down at him with tearful relief with his hand in Percy’s hair and his fingers pulsing with holy light. Percy thought it must have been bad.

Cassandra came in soon later and he could almost imagine he had seen her a few days ago and not the years it felt like.

Using his gun as a crutch, he hobbled his way towards the castle, the imposing white towers blocking out the sun.

They watched him sit quietly while they talked, watched the cogs turn in his head to formulate plans, watched him start to say and stumble. Grog took a step behind him so he would hit the Goliath instead of cold hard ground and Keyleth put her hand on his arm to keep him steady.

Gilmore handed back their items and yawned, stretching his hands above his head. “Is there anything else you want me to look at before I go to bed? Because- it’s late.”

“What time is it, Shawn?” Vax asked calmly, looking at Percy out of the corner of his eye.

Looking up at the sky, Gilmore tilted his head. “Nine?”

“Nine,” Vax repeated quietly, looking at his sister, who nodded. Then louder: “Percival, you should go to bed.”

Percy sighed, pushed his hair out of his face. “Soon. I am not quite ready for sleep, and we have a lot to talk about.” They watched ideas of the up-and-coming battle flit between his quickly darting eyes and watched his lips tighten. “We need to have a discussion. Perhaps in the morning?”

“Yes,” Vex sighed, quietly, walking towards him and placing her hand on his other arm. “We should sleep. You should. You look very tired.” It was meant to be soothing, but she felt- the others watched- him flinch, a fleeting look of fear crossing his face and gone in an instant.

“We can have this conversation tonight; I’m just going to be feeling miserable for a while.” Desperately searching for any reason to not be alone, not to be secluded, isolated in his room with memories and him after being reunited with his family after an eternity, and his eyes searched their faces for any trace of pity, any form of giving in.

Shaking her head, Keyleth looked him in the eyes, and Percy looked away. “I don’t think that’s a wise idea.”

He tried, he really did, and they watched him fight, even though his eyelids were dropping and his head was sinking down to rest on his chest, watched him stumble and lean back on Grog, watched him try desperately to keep all his friends with him. But he needed sleep.

His voice quavered, and he blocked out the rest of the conversation, his head clouding with the never-ending darkness that filled him the last time he slept, those years he spent with his eyes closed and his heart stopped. His eyes opened, the darkness gone, caught the last snippet of the conversation. “It’s true, but Percy needs to get the fuck to sleep, seriously.” Vax placed his hand under his chin, lifted his face, his wings blocking out the sun from hitting Percy’s face.

Vax watched the human’s mouth open and close, words stuck in his throat. “I must admit, I… fear sleep at the moment.” Vax rubbed his thumb across his friend’s jaw as he took a shaking breath.  Percy’s eyes met his, tired and fearful.

Blocking out the rest of the others, Vax moved his hands to his shoulders, blood speckled, the fabric tarnished and unravelling, and squeezed. Percy slowly looked at him with eyes almost begging him to understand. “Nobody wants to talk to you right now. We want you to go to sleep. We’re going to go have a drink and a fabulous time. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Stumbling back to his room, Percy mentally kicked himself for not insisting he stay, not forcing himself to go with them to whatever bar they found in Whitestone, not staying in the company of his family after so many centuries of being alone with… him.

He fell face first in bed, fully dressed, fully armed, and fell into a dreamless sleep filled with the horrifying darkness and heartbreaking silence that filled with nothing but the familiar dark cackling and his pained screams, could swear that someone was waiting for him in the cold, empty, dark.

His friends came home that night, slightly drunk and tired, tiptoeing by his door as if they would wake him up, Vex sneaking in to replace his note, Vax to check his pulse and his body for holes, Keyleth to brush his hair out of his face and to tell him to get some sleep, they would be there in the morning. Cassandra entered at some point in the night and didn’t leave until many hours later, but they didn’t question it, and found Percy in the morning under the covers, in his favourite pyjamas, his guns where he is most comfortable and his clothes folded neatly or handing up in his closet.

Even the deep angry, red speckled holes in the fabric seemed to be stitched back together.

They kept their eyes on him afterwards, always had him in their sight. Even after the meeting with Rishan, his attempt at pious and calculated words failed him, his voice heavily laced with tiredness and his body giving up on him, using Grog to stand upright.

But they watched him fight, during the battle with the Frigid Doom. His shots went wide often, his aim off and scattering against the icy wall behind. His thoughts were muddled and he wasn’t sure what to do when Yenk climbed up the wall to tear into him, bleeding dark red onto the platform.

Even so, Percy reasoned with the green dragon and bargained, words strong and determined although inside, his tongue was tied into a knot, his stomach a heavy lead weight and his heart a painful stab wound as his clouded mind struggled to form the right things to say.

Back at the castle, he’d fall asleep standing, swaying into Keyleth or Grog only for the Goliath to carry him back to his bed. His mind was always going as fast as his bullets from the barrel of his gun, plans and strategies rolling around like rocks down a mountain, tumbling over each other in a panic to reach the bottom first, his words faster than his lips and his brain even faster still, Scanlan playing a tune on his shawm or his flute until his eyes fluttered closed. Keyleth would gently guide him back to his room with his half-closed eyelids, Vex would whittle arrows while Percy made bullets until his fingers were numb, Vax sat quietly with him, back to back, touching for the first time willingly and openly since the tomb as they cleaned their weapons and whispered about memories, Cass working him to the bone in the study until his hands were covered in charcoal and ink, wax caked under his nails from the wax seals and his hair a mess from where his sister had been running her fingers through it.

Every night, he still dreamt of the millennia he spent with Orthax, the terrible pain as he writhed and screamed in the smoky black grasp with the claws that pierced his skin and poisoned his blood with corruption, spirit tattering like parchment set aflame and the laughter/screaming of the voice that haunted his dreams for years. Sometimes he dreams of the Briarwood’s and the begging and screaming of his siblings, his parents, his caretakers, the glint of Sylas’s teeth and the bubbling laughter of Delilah as she hung off of her husband’s arm, purple death swirling around her fingers. Other nights it was Ripley, with her questions and her fingers and her tools, her smile as sharp as the dagger in her hand and her mind as strong as the chains that bind his legs and his arms.

It took a long, long while, but after a time, he stopped waking up screaming, stopped missing as many shots. His gun stopped giving off as much smoke with every fire. He stopped falling asleep on his feet. Vox Machina watched their brother grow stronger again, watched his change, watched him be the brave de Rolo he always was.

They watched him rise.

[garecc]

The Hidden Oracle+1

Chapter 6

Goodbye Jackson House / High speed car and monster chase / Maybe we'll survive

The Jacksons did not have any spare bows and quivers to lend us. Percy said he sucked at archery, unsurprising for a son of the sea god… If he were a talented archer it would probably dredge up some painful memories best left unsaid. Apollo said something about planning for his needs, I didn't really pay attention. Sally had lent us some proper coats, Apollo’s was blue and mine was a dark red. Apollo randomly asked me if Blofis was some sort of word to ward off evil spirits, where would he have even gotten that idea from?

When we got to the Prius, Meg called shotgun. Apollo sulked for a bit after that. I guess he was used to the front, he drove the Sun “Chariot” after all. (Ha! More like Sun Sports Car) He appeared to be carsick after not even 5 minutes. Even I can last longer than that.

Percy wasn't the smoothest driver, or maybe he was. I can't say I have much experience with New York driving. The car lurched and breaked, New York Traffic was a mystery to me.

“Doesn’t your Prius have flamethrowers?” Apollo demanded. “Lasers? At least some Hephaestian bumper blades? What sort of cheap economy vehicle is this?”

I nearly laughed. “Apollo… This is a mortal vehicle.. They have laws about destroying cars-”

Percy glanced in the rearview mirror. “You have rides like that on Mount Olympus?” “We don’t have traffic jams, that, I can assure you,” Apollo complained

Meg fidgeted with her crescent rings, why did she have them? The moon was my symbol. She wasn't one of my hunters. I couldn't think of a good reason for why she would have them.

Meg was gazing out of the rear windshield, I assumed she was checking if any of the shiny blobs were pursuing us. “At least we’re not being-”

“Don’t say it,” Percy warned.

Meg looked annoyed. “You don’t know what I was going to-”

“You were going to say, ‘At least we’re not being followed,’” Percy said. “That’ll jinx us. Immediately we’ll notice that we are being followed. Then we’ll end up in a big battle that totals my family car and probably destroys the whole freeway. Then we’ll have to run all the way to camp.”

I mean, that seemed like a stretch but Percy had been on six quests. He must have learned that somewhere along the line.

Meg’s eyes widened. “You can tell the future?”

“Don’t need to.” Percy changed lanes. This lane was going ever so slightly faster. “I’ve just done this a lot. Besides” he shot Apollo an accusing look “nobody can tell the future anymore. The Oracle isn’t working.”

“What Oracle?” Meg asked.

Neither me Apollo or Percy answered. For a moment I swear all color left Apollo’s face. “It.. it still isn’t working?” He said in a small voice.

He didn't know?

“You didn’t know?” Did Percy read my mind? Only a few immortals can do that, and Poseidon isn't one of them. “I mean, sure, you’ve been out of it for six months, but this happened on your watch.”

“I just… I assumed…. I hoped this would have been taken care of by now-”

“You mean by demigods,” Percy said, “going on a big quest to reclaim the Oracle of Delphi?” I didn't miss the bitterness in his voice. I couldn't standhim making the crude assumption it was Apollo’s fault Delphi was taken because it ISN'T.

“It is NOT my brother's fault that Delphi was taken.” I snapped, glaring at the back of Percy’s head angrily. Apollo looked at me curiously. “Zeus was angry, like really, really angry. Like sear every last molecule in your body angry.” Apollo visibly cringed at that sentence, looking down. I wanted to hug him, reassure him, tell him that everything was going to be alright. But I knew better, I knew these trials would be anything but easy, and I wasn't done speaking, not yet at least. “We didn't know that Gaea would resurrect that vile serpent ! It wasn't like he could go fight that damned creature with the constant risk of lightning bolts flying down from the heavens. Bolts sent by our own father.” Apollo looked taken aback by my harsh words. The truth hurts sometimes.  “And, by any minuscule chance are you aware, that if we took even a single step off our island, we would be incapacitated by pain? Neither me nor my brother could shoot our bows to kill that idiot legacy Octavian . The arrows turned to smoke at 200 feet! We were stuck there, on our island. Leaving was futile and pointless.”

“Artemis-” Apollo tried to interrupt.

“I'm not finished brother.” The anger disappeared from my voice as I addressed him. “Our minds were split in half Perseus . It is not my brother's fault Delphi was taken. Do not make that mistake.” I seethed.

Apollo stared at me for a moment, before exhaling slowly.

“Artemis…” Apollo said slowly. “Did you…” He took a moment to compose himself. “Did you really need to include-”

“The part about Father searing every molecule in your body?”

He nodded once, glancing away. Those memories were painful, years and years ago when we were young gods still learning the way of Olympus.. Zeus used to.. Punish him with the bolts. I can still see his terrified expression the first time Zeus got mad. I can hear his scream as he was shocked. I clenched my fist. I have always hated seeing my brother hurt. I remember him once telling me that it was easier to hate the lightning bolts than hating our father. When he killed the Cyclopes that made the bolts he told me it wasn't just for revenge for his son, he partially did it because he hated the lightning bolts. I took a deep breath. “If.. If I was to get my point across about how serious Zeus’s anger was, yes. Yes, I did.”

Percy didn't comment for a moment, he seemed to be thinking of something, although I couldn't imagine what.  After what seemed like ages he spoke. “Oh.”

Apollo took a long shaky breath, putting his head in his hands. I put a hand on his shoulder, he didn't pull away. I really shouldn't have said that.

“Sorry..” He nodded weakly, I retracted my hand and tried to ignore the pit of guilt in my stomach. Some memories shouldn't be stirred.

There was a long silence before anyone spoke again.

“I.. Chiron must have just forgot.” Apollo murmured quietly. “When we get to camp I will see about Chiron dispatching a quest”

Percy sighed. “You see, so here's the thing. To go on a quest, we need a prophecy, right? Those are the rules. If there's no Oracle's, there are no prophecies. So where stuck in a-”

“A Catch-88” Apollo said quietly, glancing at me.

I snorted. That was a joke I had made years ago.

Meg threw something at Apollo. Lint? Fabric? I didn't see. “It's a Catch-22 dummy”

“No, It's a Catch-88. Which is four times as bad.” Me and Apollo said in perfect sync. He smiled weakly, I laughed to myself.

Meg stared at us. “So you can do the twin talking in sync thing! That's so cool!”

“No Meg,” I said, still laughing. “It's an inside joke from ages ago… How many years now? 62? Something like that”

Apollo nodded. He seemed to be thinking about something, I realized he looked pale. I debated slinging an arm over his shoulder but decided against it.

I thought about the Oracle dilemma. Python lay curled in Delphi as we speak, growing stronger every day. We are weak mortals bound to an untrained demigod. There was a slim chance to retake Delphi in this state.

But someone had known where we would land. Someone had sent those thugs to mug us in that accursed alley. I scowled. They were going to die. Whoever sent them is going to pay . Whoever hurt my brother like that is going to be destroyed. No one, and I mean no one messes with my little brother and gets away with it.

Nobody can tell the future anymore, Percy had said.

But that wasn’t quite true.

“Hey guys,” She threw lint at us. So that's what she threw at Apollo. Where was she getting this lint?

I realized I’d been ignoring her.

“Oh, sorry, Meg,” Apollo said with forced cheerfulness. “You see, the Oracle of Delphi is an ancient-”

“I don’t care about that,” she said. “There are three shiny blobs now.”

“What?” Percy asked.

She pointed behind us. “Look.”

I turned around like a bullet, looking for the blobs. Sadly, she was right. The blobs passed through the traffic easily and were closing in on us rapidly. There were three glittery, vaguely humanoid blobs. I noticed Apollo was looking just as concerned, but there was a slight grimace of pain on his face. “sit down,” I commanded. “You’ll hurt yourself, you may have slept a few hours but you're still hurt.” Now that I mentioned it, my ribs were throbbing, turning around hadn't been the best idea. I turned around, holding in a wince. Of course, Apollo had to notice, I saw the worry flash in his eyes as he turned forward.

“Your hurt.” He deadpanned, looking at me.

“Apollo. I broke a few ribs when I fell, its nothing.”

“Just.. you didn't tell me. Why?”

“It didn't seem important..”

“Tell me next time okay?” He sounded truly hurt.

“I will.” He glanced at me, then sighed.

“You’d better.”

“Just once I’d like an easy commute,” Percy grumbled. “Everybody, hold on. We’re going cross-country.”

Percy’s definition of cross-country was very different from ours.

I knew there was no true countryside near here, so I assumed we would be taking side streets or something. Instead, Percy steered us down the nearest exit ramp, sped across the parking lot of a shopping mall, then flew through the drive-through of a Mexican restaurant. We turned into a more industrial area full of warehouses. The blobs were still closing in behind us at an alarming rate.

Apollo’s knuckles turned white on my seat belt shoulder strap, his eyes wide. He had always hated high-speed chases. “Is your plan to avoid a fight by dying in a traffic accident?” He demanded.

“Outrun and outlast,” I said. “I'm assuming You has a plan of that sort?”

We sped north, the warehouses abruptly gave way to a mix of apartments and old abandoned shops.

“I’m getting us to the beach. I fight better near water.”

“Because Poseidon?” Meg asked.

“Yep,” Percy agreed. “That pretty much describes my entire life: Because Poseidon.”

Meg was bouncing with excitement. It seemed pointless, as the car was already bouncing a lot.

“You’re gonna be like Aquaman?” she asked. “Get the fish to fight for you?”

“Thanks,” Percy said. “I haven’t heard enough Aquaman jokes for one lifetime.”

“I wasn’t joking!” Meg protested.

Apollo glanced out the rear window, then winced. Either from pain or the fact that the three spirits were still gaining on us. If it was from pain Apollo, I told you so.

One of them passed through a middle-aged man crossing the street. The mortal instantly collapsed.

“Ah, I know these spirits!” Apollo practically screamed. “They are…um… they are...”

His mouth was half open and he looked like he forgot what he was going to say. Great job brother.

“What?” Percy demanded. “They are what?”

“I’ve forgotten! I hate being mortal! Four thousand years of knowledge, the secrets of the universe-”

“He forgot. Spend time trying to remember not being dramatic.”

“Hold on!” Percy flew through a railroad crossing and the Prius went airborne. Meg yelped as her head hit the ceiling. Then she began giggling uncontrollably. Why? Why was she giggling?

This is not funny!

The landscape opened into actual countryside, fields, vineyards, and orchards of bare fruit trees.

“Just another mile or so to the beach,” Percy said. “Plus we’re almost to the western edge of camp. We can do it. We can do it.” He sounded desperate.

So as it turns out, we couldn’t. One of the shiny smoke clouds pulled a dirty trick, appearing from the pavement directly in front of us.

Instinctively, Percy swerved.

The Prius went off the road, straight through a barbed wire fence and into an orchard. Wonderful work Perseus. He managed to avoid hitting any of the trees, (I would have hit all the trees) but sadly the car skidded in the icy mud and wedged itself between two trunks. For some reason, the airbags did not deploy. Thank the gods.

Percy popped his seat belt. “You guys okay?”

Apollo looked pale but nodded. “We’re fine.” The tremor in his voice said otherwise.

Meg shoved against her passenger-side door. “Won’t open. Get me out of here!”

Percy tried his own door. It was firmly jammed against the side of a peach tree.

My door wouldn't open either, for a panicked second I thought we were trapped, but Apollo managed to kick his door open. “Back here,” He said. “Climb over!”

He staggered out nearly tripping over his own feet, I followed him.  Apollo stumbled over to me, a look of mild panic on his face. I steadied him by wrapping an arm around his unsteady shoulders. He was leaning on me now, he looked like he was trying to hide it, but he could hardly stay on his feet.

“..Thanks...” He murmured quietly, so only I would hear. He really wasn't fit to be doing this. I imagined that he was bruised badly from the thugs, and the car crash couldn't have helped. His face was skewed up in pain.  

“Do you want me to carry you? Your swaying..” I asked uncertainly, I knew I could carry him from earlier, and he looked like he was going to fall over.

“‘M fine..” He managed, but it was obvious he wasn't .

The three glittering smokey figures had stopped at the edge of the orchard. Instead of there speedy advance, they crept forward slowly, taking on clear shapes. They had arms and legs, their gaping mouths too wide and too big.

Apollo froze, his eyes widening. “I know these.. I know these… I know these.” I could practically hear Apollo thinking, his teeth started chattering, and his grip on my shoulder tightened. His face was so pale he looked like he might faint. Then his hands started shaking, and I knew he was starting to panic.

I could feel my own heart rate pick up as they stumbled forward, my palms started sweating. What do we do? Oh gods there getting closer oh no no no I glanced helplessly to the Prius, Meg and Percy hadn't made it out yet, and they needed time. Apollo pulled away from me, nearly falling as he did so. Did he remember?

“STOP” Great. He’s bullshitting his way to success. This won’t work. This won't ever work. I won't let them hurt him. I won't let them hurt him.

“Apollo-”

“I am the god Apollo!” I was preparing to drag him away.

To our surprise, the three spirits stopped. They hovered in place about forty feet away.

The Tartarus? Okay. Maybe this will work. Maybe we’ll be fine. Maybe he won't get hurt. Maybe we’ll be okay. He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. He Will Be Fine.

Meg grunted as she tumbled out of the backseat. Percy hurried after her.

Apollo advanced toward the spirits, frozen mud crunching under his shoes. He raised my hand in an ancient three-fingered gesture for warding off evil. This might just work yet. I did the same gesture.

“Leave us or be destroyed!” He told the spirits. “BLOFIS!”

Idiot. I TOLD you that wasn't a word of magic

The smoky shapes trembled. Maybe he had dispatched them? I dared to hope. Maybe we wouldn't need to fight. Maybe it was okay. I half-heartedly waited for them to dissipate or flee in terror.

Sadly, they solidified into gruesome corpses with sunken yellow eyes. Their clothes were in rags, their limbs covered with bloody wounds and disgusting sores.

“Oh, dear.” Apollo whimpered, stumbling back and nearly tripping over a hole in the ground, he somehow looked paler.  “I remember now.”

He stumbled over to me, his eyes wide. He looked terrified. I slung an arm over his shoulders, trying to steady him. He made a sound between a sob and a whimper. I could feel him trembling.

Percy and Meg stepped to either side of us, Apollo’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the walking corpses. With a metallic shink, Percy’s pen grew into a Celestial bronze sword.

“Remember what?” he asked. “How to kill these things?”

“No,” He murmured quietly, his voice trembling. “I remember what they are: nosoi, plague spirits. Also…” He took a shaky breath “Also they can’t be killed.”

Nosoi. We’re dead.

[FIRST]

[PREVIOUS]

[NEXT]

[nana-writes]

Don’t Blame It On Me (I Can Do That Myself)

Ao3: here

Fandom: Percy Jackson & the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus

Tags: Major Character Death; non-canon character death (previous to the beginning of the story)

all rights to Rick Riordan and Disney Hyperion;

***

Everybody knows Percy Jackson.

Maybe they don't really know him but they know of him.

They know he is a swimming prodigy, could probably get a scholarship off of it if he would just manage to get his grades straight. They know he has ADHD and anyone who's ever been in his English or History class knows he has an impressive knowledge of Greek and Roman mythology. All girls (&some guys) will agree he is good looking. Emily swears up and down that no one pulls better the "troublemaker with a heart of gold" look than Perseus Jackson. But they also know Percy would never look at them, never even notices them, too focused on the blonde athletic girl that often visits him at the school - his girlfriend.

They know about his weird friends. The one with the crutches and more body hair than it should be possible for a teenager; the buff girl with the red bandanna and the sweet boyfriend; the dark haired, pale faced dark eyed sunken boy; the punk girl with the electric blue eyes and the spiky black hair and a fucking tiara; the huge, simple minded boy with the crooked teeth and an eye colour no one could agree on.

Most of all they know about his disappearance last year, of how his parents were worn thin with no word from him for six months. They saw the desperation in Mr Blowfis' eyes, Percy's stepfather and beloved English teacher at the school, and knew it matched the one on Sally's and on his girlfriend and on Rachel, the only person at school who had seemed to ever really know him.

And when he comes back and re-enrolls for senior year they know something has happened. He seems taller and skinnier, his hair is over grown he shifts more than usual and his eyes never seen to focus on anyone. His old schoolmates have all graduated but the now seniors and juniors still remember the swimming team prodigy that would always stand up for the younger ones and shot hops in the playgrounds whenever he got the chance. That boy is gone and Percy only seams to be there because it's mandatory, because he has to finish high school, because where else would he go.

His friends don't really show up as often as they did and neither does the girlfriend. The black haired, black eyed, pale skinned boy is the one that comes the most, sometimes with another boy who looks exactly like his opposite. And while the second boy usually stays out of ear shot and mostly out of sight, the first never hesitates to locate Percy. They talk in low whispers, even if Percy does little of the talking. Its eery how they seemed to have traded places. Percy is the one who looks haunted now and all his schoolmates give him a wide berth or ignore him entirely.

Their hushed conversations always end up the same way, with Percy pushing past his friend with his head low, tears sometimes shinning in his eyes, and his friend watching him go with sadness scrawled all over his features.

It's a shock when the punk girl with the tiara shows up. The now seniors remember her from three years ago and her story is mostly forgotten. The tales never told of the teenage girls with deathly glares that followed her, or how her eyes shown like electricity or... Was that a bow on her shoulder?!

"Perseus Jackson!" she called, her voice booming through the halls, never mind the noise that was already there. Everyone cleared the way for her and her friends and stopped to watch her stamped until she finally turned the corner to where Percy stood.

He turns, shoulders sagging, as if being faced by a murderous teenage girl gang was a daily inconvenience. Or a doctor's appointment that you knew was conning and still found yourself annoyed you had to go. Contrary to what used to happen before his hand doesn't slide into his pocket when he hears his full name, stubbornly standing instead at his side.

"How could you?" she snarls, shoving him. Despite their age and size different he stumbles nonetheless "You were suppose to protect her!!" she pushes him again and once more he falls backwards. His head is still down and he hasn't faced the girl yet. He doesn't seem to want to see the anger and the pain and the sorrow etched all over the fifteen year old's features.

"What? You've got nothing to say for yourself?" the punk girl shoves him one last time, more forcefully this time and it could be a trick of the light but they would all swear sparks fly when she does so.

Percy hits the rows of lockers behind him and is finally forced to look up at his surprise visit. His face is mostly void of emotions but his voice cracks when he says her name and he is tired, he is so goddamned tired.

"Thalia..."

She moves almost faster than the eye can track and is on him in a second, pushing him against the lockers, one of her elbows pressing lightly against his throat while pushing his chin up.

"Don't you Thalia me you piece of shit!! She's dead! Annabeth is dead and it happened on your watch!"

That finally seems to snap him out of it. His expression mirrors her's: the same anger, same grief, same guilt. He barely needs to touch her to shove her away. That only seems to increase Thalia's fury and some of the other girls that had stopped far away enough to give their leader space tense up, hands reaching for their waist. (maybe they carry mace in their pockets) They don't have time to do anything because Percy starts talking right back.

"You think I don't know that!? Think that I don't relive it every fucking night, over and over again?!" his voice is more hoarse than before and there's the strain of barely contained... something in it "I was there when it happened! She died in my arms Thalia"

"She died in my arms" he repeats weakly, looking down at his hands as if he can still see her curls - mated with dirt and blood - framing her lifeless features.

The punk girl - Thalia - raises her fists and bangs them against his chest again and again. There is no real force behind the movement and Percy let's her, eventually raising his hands to grasp her's. She struggles a bit but he ignores her half-hearted efforts and puts his arms around her. Soon she is crying against his chest and so is he.

"She was seven when Luke and I found her..." she whispers "Seven. So small and so brave already"

"The first thing she told me when we were eleven was that I drooled in my sleep..." he laughs but there is no real merry behind it

"You do drool Seaweed Brain" at the nickname a sob rips through Percy and they both lapse into silence, searching for consolation in each other's arms and finding only the smallest of comforts.

Everybody had known something bad had happened but nobody knew just what. And know that they did it didn't really change a thing; there was nothing they could do or say.