#percy x traitor! reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ma1dita · 11 months ago

Text

love like a blister

the five stages of loving losing luke

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.7k

summary: (post-tlt) set directly after lovers, or partners in crime; The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they're still alive. Loving him and losing him are one and the same; the aftermath of his betrayal. this work references a lot of previous works in the series! (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: yeah… yall been asking for this so buckle up. luke is not present in this one, moreso you/trouble dealing with the after. i let annabeth breakdown a bit since ep 8 was amazing but felt choppy to me. this is not the end of the trouble!verse i promise!!

(posted 2/12/24, betaed by mootie lari @mrsaluado)

—

DENIAL - bursting under pressure

we grew up together, what do you mean you grew into a person i can’t love?

Annabeth and Percy find you standing at the edge of the forest clearing—staring at the space where you let the love of your life vanish into thin air.

You let him leave.

It’s almost harrowing when the three of you make eye contact, not a single weapon in your possession, only your dying lantern and heart bleeding with the confirmation of Luke’s betrayal.

Knees shaking as Annabeth stalks over and her sword still raised with tears in her eyes, she’s no longer Luke’s little sister but a formidable warrior set on protecting camp—on protecting Percy.

And you failed in doing either of those things you promised yourself at the beginning of this summer because you ignored the signs of Luke’s behavior— until this very moment. There’s a pressure in your head that dampens your senses, overtaking the control you have over your being as you deny any knowledge of what happened tonight.

Because in truth, you put the pieces together at the same time they did, just a little too late. She looks at you now with the fury she wasn’t able to project on the real traitor.

“You knew,” she grits her teeth, on the defensive as Percy scrambles up from the ground.

“Annie, I…”

Percy stares at you in horror, a few steps back with Riptide in his injured grasp, and suddenly he understands what it means to see you break. They both feel it instantly as your lantern goes out. Heavy despair drapes over all of you as the madness rips its way through your body, almost breaking through your skin as it emanates through the air. The two children had never felt anything like it before, swords shaking in their hands as they’re filled with the sensation until it bubbles over and they can’t do anything but watch you, their usually poised head counselor lose your grip on reality.

But this can’t be real.

Out of all of the plans you both made, it was never deemed a possibility that Luke wouldn’t be there with you. Now you stand in the darkness of the forest, hands raised in surrender to a crime you didn’t commit.

There’s so much pressure and it hurts holding it all in, hurts so badly—everywhere until you scream.

“DAD!”

You stare at their small faces surrounding you in anguish, both of them talking but not a single word registers in your mind as you keep shaking your head and screaming for your father for the first time in your life. Before the words the words can form between your lips again Dionysus is there, not as an immortal god but carrying the wrath of a protective father, and there are no forces that can fight against that.

It all moves fast from there, black spots blurring your vision brought by the sheer strength of your tears. Though you don’t feel strong right now, instead there’s nothing that can describe the feeling but hurt as you’re frozen in pain.

The kids watch Mr. D check you for any injuries, but what they’ll never understand is that the wounds Luke left behind are on the inside, and you are bleeding. He shushes you, but the words fight their way out of your mouth, almost in disbelief. “Did I do that to him?”

Your father scoops you into his arms, godly strength and fatherly concern surfacing as he cradles you like a little girl like he should have all those years ago.

The haze clears as Mr. D quells the misery that reverberates through the air and it’s quiet again as your eyes fall shut. For a moment, Percy can’t help but wonder if this is another performance of yours, another way to throw him off of the traitor’s scent. But as your hand falls out from under Mr. D’s arm, he grabs onto it anyway. The son of Poseidon remembers how you and Luke always looked at each other like you were equals, and realizes that for once, the actress was outplayed at her own game.

ANGER - words leaking like an abscess

i never knew loving someone so much would be a crime

There isn’t a protocol set in place for when one of your cabin counselors and all-star campers defects with plans to wage war on the gods. There is even less of a precedent set in place for when the head counselor and daughter of the camp director is left to pick up the pieces, hands dirtied by the evidence he left behind. Perhaps your job description was never truly clear anyway.

All you know now is that you’ve been sitting in a rickety wooden chair in your dad’s office for hours now, tied up—for formalities.

This must be your punishment from the gods for every way you were different. Maybe if you were braver, maybe if you didn’t force yourself to only see the good in him, maybe then maybe, he could’ve been saved too. Surely undoing all of that would be considerably less painful than being questioned by everyone you love about the one you love.

For once you didn’t have any good answers.

“Like I said to Chiron. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know what? Use your big girl words. Just do the right thing, like you always say!” Clarisse barks in your face. The centaur tuts at the daughter of Ares, making her step back and cross her arms. The boys are more silent but still suspicious, and Lee asks if you really thought Clarisse was the traitor.

“I didn’t. I was the last one to know,” you grit, looking at Percy who surveys you with hesitant eyes, “I just thought Luke was leaving. I didn’t know why.”

“How do we know you’re not working for Kronos too?”

One of them says it, you’re losing track as to who when you blink hard and long, but the words spill out of you like a festering wound— fast, acidic, and painful.

“Do you REALLY think I could turn my back on my home? My friends? Is that how you all think of me? After everything!”

“You’d do anything for that boy and we all know it,” Silena says with a scowl very unlike her, though you suppose everyone’s out of sorts from exhaustion.

“Not that. That’s where him and I are different. I would never be able to do that.”

You think you hear Silena bite back a sob as she turns away from you, not meeting your eyes.

Mr. D was unable to judge you since you were his only daughter. He’s been gone most of the night and you feel so alone even if the room is filled with familiar faces that don’t even want you here. Charles, Percy, Lee, Clarisse, Silena, Katie stand still as they judge you— Annabeth didn’t even come to the Big House, her mind probably already made up.

Chiron says there will be a vote, the procedural way—like how you taught the cabin counselors how to handle disagreements, though they were never expecting to vote on your dismissal from camp. Tensions are high, some rightfully angry at the war looming over your heads, others looking at you with pity from the other corner of the room. All of them, your friends, still, you hope.

6 votes, since you and Luke didn’t count, and Annabeth’s abstention. They did it outside, away from your view and you sit in the silence of the office, angry at what’s become of you. Tainted and tarnished, you don’t bother to find out who voted what, knowing things won’t be the same after this.

Your dad comes back a little before dawn, having asked a favor from Apollo to determine your innocence–to prove that you’re telling the truth. But by then, Charles and Lee are already untying you from your chair and you’re being let go. You wonder what changed once they were able to speak without being in your presence. Remaining seated and staring at all of them with your jaw set in stone-cold wrath, Percy thinks for a moment that you look like Luke.

The first rays of light shine through the window upon your sullen frame— a confirmation from the sun god that your heart was always pure. It still feels like a loss. There’s no medal or award for getting left behind, and winning has always been more of Luke’s thing.

You resign from the position of head counselor by the time sunlight spreads across the campgrounds.

BARGAINING - to make yourself new from the inside out

isn’t home the first place you learn to run from?

You catch Percy at the doorstep of cabin 3 before he leaves and your dad is yelling at all the campers.

“Okay! For those of you who are not staying for the full term… get out! You get out. Pack your bags. You’re going home!” Mr. D screams with a twinkle in his eye as he winks at you, patting you on the head before walking away to drive kids out.

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” Percy mumbles, adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. You’d been locked up in your room since the interrogation with almost no signs of life. He was worried about you—all of them were. They just didn’t know how to say it, after everything.

You stood in front of him in sweatpants and a shirt he’s sure he’s seen Luke wear to sleep before, exhaustion prominent on your face; usually you’re better at hiding it, but there’s no need for false pretenses anymore.

“Last day of camp. Had to end it on a good note,” you say softly, biting your lip, “I heard about what you did, Perce. You didn’t have to. I was going to quit anyway.”

Sometime in the past few days, Chiron came to your cabin to tell you they didn’t vote at all, which was a surprise to you. Percy convinced them not to, reminding them of your efforts as head counselor, and as a friend—the decision was settled quickly after that.

“I knew you didn’t betray us. I was just scared.”

You watch him shift his weight, not losing eye contact as he produces a half-smile. He seems older now after his quest, as many demigods do–though it’s only been a few weeks, he looks like he’s grown more sure of himself.

“That’s okay. I was too.”

The silence between you is comfortable as both of you listen to the birds in the trees, the distant voices of chattering children, and your heart hurts at the idea of leaving this, even temporarily. As your eyes flicker back to Percy’s, you realize he feels the same way.

“I hope your mom’s okay, especially after all of this. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

His sandy eyebrows furrow and it’s funny how Percy always looks a little confused.

“You’re leaving camp? I thought…”

“Well I’m not joining Kronos, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you laugh dryly, “It’s getting boring here. Gonna have to change it up soon, I think. See you.” you nod, waving a hand as you turn to walk away.

“Wait!”

Percy calls your name, skipping down the steps of his cabin and meeting you halfway down the forest path. He’s digging through his jacket pocket, and pulls out two black clay beads with blue tridents etched on the surface as your body grows cold.

“I don’t know what to do with—” “We…the other counselors, this is what we ended up voting on. And I thought you should get an extra, just in case,” Percy mumbles, his voice edged with hope and your face contorts into something like regret. You can’t cry again, even if you wanted to.

“I wouldn’t pray for something like that,” you whisper shakily.

“I thought you didn’t really pray at all.”

The kid smiles at you and it makes you wonder what souls like him and Luke must’ve done in their previous lives to deserve fates like this—to fight wars that aren’t their own. To be doomed by the narrative is a treacherous thing, and it is so utterly unfair.

“Yeah. That was more his style,” you sniff, taking the beads out of his hand, “but I still find myself with a lot of hope.”

Hope, in a sense, is prayer too. Wishing that things will be better, manifesting and believing that it doesn’t have to end this way. You don’t think Luke will ever come home to you, not really, not all of him, but it’s nice to have something to hang onto. At his core, he was raised to be a soldier, and soldiers don’t always come home.

You decide to drive Percy down the opposite shore to Montauk. It’s a short ride, and he spends the time looking out the window to the sea, thinking of his father— when the car pulls up to the driveway of the beach house, you step out and give him a hug. Soon, he’ll be taller than you.

“Take care of yourself, okay? Need anything and I’m a call away,” you smile, but he sees that it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Thank you. For being a real friend, even if it hurts you.”

You grab his shoulder to make him look at you, and the distant sound of crashing waves dampens the thoughts running through your head.

“Listen to me. None of this is your fault. I couldn’t save him. Luke’s my biggest failure.”

Your voice wavers and you swallow hard, pushing the tears back down your throat.

“You know, I knew you didn’t know anything about his betrayal because when we were in the forest, I’d never seen you like that before. I couldn’t figure out the feeling, and–”

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that, Perce. I couldn’t hold it in anymore,” you interrupt, but he shakes his head and continues.

“I thought you were sad. It felt like sadness at first, but then I realized it was hatred. And I knew even then that I could never hate you. So I realized that’s how you felt about yourself. I hope someday you don’t feel that way anymore.”

If a few tears slip down your cheeks, Percy doesn’t pay it any mind. He waves at you when he gets to the door.

DEPRESSION - healing takes thick skin

i knew to love would be to lose my mind

After the summer term ended, you spent most of it in bed, hiding away from the world. You wished to be more spontaneous, to up and leave the safe boundaries of the camp you call home, but you’re not quite there yet.

The one good thing about this is your father. Dionysus was at your bedside every morning and night between the work him and Chiron had to do to keep camp running in your absence. His powerful fingers made themselves comfortable stroking your hair as you always find yourself staring at nothing. Your father cured you of what he thought was madness over your life being turned upside down by someone you love, but after the fog cleared, you were left feeling nothing. Numb to the touch, hardened by your hurt like a growing callous.

Impenetrable.

He thinks it’s bittersweet, getting to know you better as you chat late into the night when you can’t sleep, but it breaks his own heart to have the power of Olympus on his side and still not be able to fix you. He knows now what you must have been feeling these past few months, to some extent.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m dead already,” you mutter as your eyes stare blankly at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. Your dad is sitting at your desk as he signs paperwork, and his eyes flicker to a pinned photo on you wall of you kissing Luke’s cheek in a photobooth. One of the pins is missing a memory, torn and stolen away.

“Unfortunately, you’re not that lucky. I carried you out of that forest, I’d know,” he mutters, sipping on his Diet Coke.

“Will it always hurt like this? Losing someone you…” Love.

You can barely even bring yourself to say it, so he sighs and nudges you to move over on the bed, his Hawaiian shirt an eyesore against your bedspread. It makes your lips quirk up to see the god try to fit himself into a full-size as he adjusts to get comfortable.

“Yes. Because if it hurts, it means that it mattered. There is no such thing as love lost if you gave it willingly. You know, your mother and I were never together, but I loved her too.”

He tucks the duvet under your chin like he’s worried you’ll catch a chill. Your form is still unmoving under the covers as he continues.

“Love is a powerful catalyst. The actions humans do after are a product of that; it brings out the best or the worst in people, especially if you think it’s the only way. You love because you want more time with them. You love someone to life, not to death.”

“Silena said something at the Big House. She said that everyone knew I would do anything for him. Where does that leave me? What do I do now?”

Your eyes shut as you feel your dad grab your hand and he chuckles lowly. He knows a thing or two of doing anything for love. He’s gone to the underworld and back—twice, for his mother Semele and his true love, Ariadne. And he’d do it again for you, if he ever had to. “You’re not broken, kid. You’re in love. It’s the purest emotion the gods have bestowed onto humans, and it is a gift, even if it doesn’t work out. Love is insanity. I think you and I know it best.”

“I guess I’m a lot more like you than I like to admit,” you scoff, leaning against his arm.

“Don’t sound so excited, daughter of mine,” he says playfully, and he seems so human now as he laughs. The two of you have a gift of fixing people, but perhaps you were both blind to who needed it the most until this very moment. Sitting there in the quiet a little longer, it doesn’t feel so bad to be the favorite daughter of Dionysus. Maybe when you’re ready to get out of these walls, you’ll be able to say it with pride.

ACCEPTANCE - to be soft again takes strength

in another life, we would’ve mattered more than choosing sides

“He always hated it when you smoked, you know.”

You cough through a puff, boots slightly slipping in the sleet of the gravel driveway as you turn to face Annabeth. Besides the fact that her father’s house is grander than anything you could ever imagine yourself living in, there’s a large distance between the two of you as she stands on the steps, the box you left on the doorstep slowly being dotted with falling snow. You left the car running, thinking she wouldn’t want to see you after everything that’s happened.

“Well he probably hates a lot of things about me now,” you say grimly.

It’s been a growing habit to want to feel something, the rush of nicotine through your bloodstream—even if it’s bound to rip years off your life. It doesn’t really matter as much anymore.

I hate a lot of things about me too, you think, remembering a white house on a hill even if it was a distant dream— these thoughts all go up in smoke as you watch her sit down on the stoop waiting for you to come sit down with her.

Your hands fidget as you find a place next to her, putting out the cigarette on the red brick as the ash falls onto your chipped nail polish. It burns, but Annabeth watches you, the both of you stone-faced.

“What made you drive all the way out here?”

She opens the box and tries to hide a shaky breath at it’s contents but the vapor in the air betrays her. You can still tell a thing or two about people acting, but you’re never too sure anymore.

“I got a few days off from class. Dad Iris messaged me, told me there were new kids in 11 who needed bunks, so… he thought it was time. It was sitting in my room when I got there.” She notices you call Mr. D your dad now, but doesn’t say much of it. She’s also getting used to calling her father that after all these years.

You pull out the quilt you gave Luke the night before you got claimed, a faded pink and purple pattern worn from the years of use and wrap it around her shoulders. It still smells like him, citrus and musk and something darker that hangs over your heads and she sniffles.

“So you’re a college girl now, huh? Never thought you’d do it,” Annabeth mumbles, still not looking at you as her eyes scan through what was hidden underneath the fabric. Luke never had much he held close to his heart, and it’s funny to think his two prized possessions were staring down into a box trying to find the meaning of it all.

“Yeah, me neither,” you sigh. It should’ve been an insult, but you know what she means.

Not without him.

There’s a lot that you promised each other, but you find yourself doing it all alone–because you have to. The world does not wait for for anyone, even if you beg for it to.

“It’s not a big deal, I’m still on the Island, just…not at home. Just trying to keep myself busy.”

Her hand picks up a polaroid of the two of them—he’s smiling as she peers over his shoulder.

“I think it’s great. You’re too hard on yourself sometimes.”

Other memories are scattered in the box including a leather bracelet, a compass, unsent letters to his mom, and photos of happier days back when all of your hearts were softer. There’s not much to split between the two of you.

A black clay bead rolls to the inner corner, indicative of this year’s events and painted with turquoise like the eyes of a certain son of Poseidon that now crosses the both of your minds.

“Percy gave it to me before he left for the city, for him. In case.”

You swallow loudly, and you watch her braid it onto the leather cord and tie it around your wrist. Her fingertips are cold as she nods, “In case.”

“You’ve been looking for him, haven’t you?” The movement your head makes is almost imperceptible—not a nod nor a shake, but the daughter of Athena knows you too well by now. She knows you because Luke did too, once upon a time.

“Think I’m trying to find myself now. If he’s still a part of that I don’t know what that says about me.”

The two of you sit there on the stoop of the Chase mansion catching up on the past 7 months even if the both of you can still feel the wall of his memory between you. She doesn’t invite you in to meet her family despite the weather—hesitant to let her mother’s side of life bleed into the new normal she’s created for herself, and you can’t blame her one bit. The both of you have been at war with each other and with yourselves since the end of the summer, when in reality you both know what it’s like to protect the little you have to hang onto and what it feels like to be left behind. Survival mode, until the end.

“Why do you think he did it? I mean, I know why, but…”

Why weren’t we enough?

Annabeth’s mind has always been so brilliant, but sitting in the dim porchlight, you understand now that she’s growing up so quickly. Gone are her baby-soft cheeks, with her cheekbones more prominent as they frame her wise eyes. She’s a teenager now. But Annabeth looks at you like she did long ago, the only person besides Luke who would patiently answer all of her questions. Even if the answers weren’t always what she wanted, you had a way of telling her what she needed to hear.

“I think I’ll be asking the gods why for the rest of my life. And even if they ignore me like they did him, or give me an answer that’s worth the balance of the world, I’ll still never be able to understand it.”

The snow is falling harder now, but neither of you seem to notice. It’s stuck in your hair, dusting your eyelashes as you sit and stare out at the front lawn. She tells you about school, her family, Percy and Grover, and the things you’ve missed about her so deeply—and for a moment you feel like you can be her older sister again, someone who can keep her secrets. Partially, you left home because everyone either doubted you or thought you as fragile. Annabeth always tells you what she’s truly thinking— it’s a breathe of fresh air to let yourself just be.

“I’ve never not had the last word when it comes to him, y’know? I guess I have nothing more to say though.”

You both huddle together for warmth under the quilt, sharing secrets and memories of him, things others wouldn’t understand.

“You know that’s not true,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, and her smile is as bright as the snowflakes in her ebony tresses.

“What I do know is that you know too damn much,” and you both start giggling softly, teary eyed and feeling what you’ve been keeping in for months now, from each other and the rest of the world.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters suddenly, and your name falling from Annabeth’s mouth sounds almost as unfamiliar as her apologizing. It shouldn’t have to have been like this. You’re not going to lose the only person who remembers him like you do, who hurts like you.

“Me too.”

She leans her head on your shoulder like how she would when you used to sing her to sleep, and deep down Annabeth knows that she won’t let the only good part of her brother go either. What tore the two of you apart brings you back together, because if you don’t have him you still have each other.

The door to the estate opens up slowly, it’s well-oiled hinges silent like the two sad girls’ whispers. Dr. Chase steps out to see you two illuminated by the light of his home, hand in hand over a box of memories and wrapped in a pink and purple quilt that Annabeth will hold close to her like she does her mother’s hat.

“You two ladies causing trouble?” he smiles, his eyes wild with a thirst to know more and it’s a look you’ve seen his daughter give you one too many times.

You can’t help but chuckle at the irony and though he means well, the all-consuming feeling that comes with the name, Luke’s name for you– ignites in your heart once more. No one will ever call you trouble again, not in the way he did. It burns like alcohol running through your veins almost unendurable and you want to will it away, but Annie’s patting your arm as she tries to stifle the flames with her cold fingers.

“Her?” she says knocking her shoulder against yours, “ Always.”

Annabeth laughs, and that too, reminds you of him but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore, your body still warm in the winter Virginia air. You feel your chest shake and suddenly you’re laughing and it’s crazy and loud and maniacal and so you that you can barely see Annabeth through the tears rolling down your cheeks. It cuts around the dead skin that’s encapsulated your being these past few months, revealing something brand new—much softer, even if it’s still tender to the touch.

It’s still you, still hurting, but choosing to live despite it.

Because you have to.

—

“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever had to do. Being loved by you is the hardest.“

- Ari B. Cofer

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan angst #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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slu7formen · 7 months ago

Note

Girl first of all I want to say that I'm OBSESSED with your writing I love it.

Second of all I would like to make a request about Luke so hear me out.

Luke and reader were in a relationship before he betrayed camp and they were head over heals for each other and then he stole the bolt and when Percy discovers he's the thief the reader is there feeling betrayed and specially heartbroken even though Luke ask her to go with him but she doesn't accept it because she's so loyal to camp and her friends.

Time passed and even if she wants to hate Luke she loves him more than anything. And Luke loves her too so instead of asking Annabeth to escape with him he asks reader and she accepts.

I want to see everything in here fluff, angst, everything you think about.

I hope you like this request and make it real for me because I've been having this idea for over a week.

Okay but I feel so bad ��cause I totally forgot I had this story FULLY WRITTEN and READY to be published (‘cause I LOVED it), I’m so sorry angel, made you wait a lot more than just a week 🥺, but thanks for reading my stories <3

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: luke´s a traitor, betrayal, use of yn, swearing, kinda angst (?, KISSING, lil book spoiler

₊˚⊹♡

The crackle and pop of the bonfire filled the air, a comforting contrast to the vibrant bursts of color exploding overhead. The annual fireworks display was in full swing, casting shadows on the faces of your friends huddled around the warm flames. It was a picture of peace, a moment of respite amidst the constant threat of monsters demigod drama.

You stole a glance at the empty space beside you. Luke, your boyfriend, had told you he'd just be back in a minute. A few minutes had turned into an eternity, but you chalked it up to his usual impulsiveness. He'd be back any minute, with his signature smile and an arm wrapped around you.

You knew it.

From the moment you met, you and Luke had been inseparable. You were his confidante, his anchor in the chaos of being a demigod and his messy life. He was your rock, always there to make you laugh, to understand the weight of your heritage in a way no one else could.

The warmth of the fire danced on your skin, but a shiver snaked down your spine. Something felt off. The chatter of your friends seemed muted, replaced by a dull ache in your chest. You couldn’t deny the way you noticed how Luke has been acting lately. So weird and distant towards you the last couple days. You loved him, fiercely and unconditionally. You'd been there for him through thick and thin, especially after his quest left a jagged scar across his cheek and a hollowness in his eyes.

But then he suddenly just, snapped.

A memory surfaced in you , sharp and unwelcome. It had been months ago, a conversation in the darkness of his cabin in a particular cold night. Luke, his eyes filled with a desperate fervor, had confessed his anger towards the gods, his belief that they were cruel and neglectful parents. He'd spoken of tricking the Olympians, joining forces with the Titans to fight for a better life for all demigods.

The anger in his voice, the glint of rebellion in his eyes, had scared you. The scar on his face, a reminder of his failed quest, seemed to burn brighter that night.

You understood his anger. The gods were far from perfect, their neglect and cruelty evident in countless demigod lives. He'd begged you to join him, his voice filled with a desperate hope. But you'd refused, your loyalty to Camp Half-Blood and your friends unwavering. You had spent hours talking him through it as you held his hand, reminding him of all the good the gods had done, no matter how flawed they might be. He'd looked lost at the time, seeking comfort in your touch. You'd thought you'd reached him, extinguished that spark of rebellion.

You really believed that conversation was long forgotten. But there was a reason why you remembered it.

Some movement at the edge of the woods caught your eye. But it wasn't the boy you were expecting. Percy, his face pale and etched with worry, practically stumbled into the fireplace, his chest heaving and his grip tight on Riptide.

A pang of concern shot through you. "Percy?" you called out, concern lacing your voice. You pushed yourself off the ground, walking towards him. "What happened? Where's Luke?"

Percy hesitated, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions. Shit, should he tell you? His silence was a hammer blow to your gut. You knew, with a chilling certainty, that something was terribly wrong.

"What?" you choked out, the question barely a whisper, expecting some kind of answer from the blonde boy, but nothing came from his trembling lips. The air felt dense, with a truth you desperately wanted to deny. You saw Luke getting into the woods with Percy, you saw it. And now, he was nowhere to be seen.

Then, it clicked. A cold, horrifying truth began to dawn on you.

He lied.

Without a word, you pushed Percy aside and started running, towards the woods. Your heart hammered against your ribs, like a trapped bird desperate to escape. You plunged into the darkness of the forest, the path you'd walked countless times with Luke now leading you into the unknown.

"Luke!" you screamed, your voice raw with anger and despair. You wove through the trees, the undergrowth tearing at your camp shirt, but you didn't care. You had to find him, to confront him, to understand why he'd chosen this path, if he chose it, why he'd lied to you.

But with each passing minute, hope crashed over you. The forest grew denser, the silence broken only by the rustle of leaves and the frantic beat of your own heart. There was no sign of Luke, no echo of his footsteps, no smell, no sense of his presence, only the chilling truth hanging heavy in the air.

He was gone.

He had left.

You sank to your knees, the weight of betrayal crushing you as the first tears you ever cried for Luke Castellan, started to fall. The man you loved, the person you'd trusted with your life, had chosen darkness over everything you held dear. He had chosen Kronos over you.

Grief, a cold and relentless serpent, coiled around your heart. And that feeling never seemed to leave.

The year that followed was a blur of sadness and a desperate attempt at normalcy. The silence from Luke was deafening. Not a single Iris-message, not a single sign of the one who once, was your boyfriend.

You knew you wouldn´t be able to return to Camp, at least not for now. Every corner held a ghost of Luke's smile, every sword clang a reminder of his battles and his betrayal. Your friends, the true ones, bless their hearts, tried everything to cheer you up from a distance, but their efforts felt like trying to pick up the pieces of a broken glass in the sea.

You opted to stay home that summer. But even there, away from the prying eyes and hushed whispers, escape from Luke's betrayal seemed impossible. Messages and news found you no matter where you hid. News of Luke leading a rogue army aboard a stolen cruise ship, rumors of him serving as Kronos's right hand while the Titan slumbered – it all reached your ears.

The nights were the worst. The darkness mirrored the hollowness within you. Tears would stain your pillow as you relived the events leading up to his betrayal. You once seemed to dream about seeing him again, and now you only screamed when you saw his face in your nightmares.

The memory of his touch, the warmth of his smile, the nights you spent loving each other with the sheets tangling in your legs, all felt like cruel illusions now. Yet, a part of you, a stubborn, illogical part, still clung to the love you once shared.

And Gods, did you try to keep yourself as busy as possible. You threw yourself into your studies and little courses here and there, seeking solace in facts and logic. You even began working, a boring but well payed summer job. Yet, the pain lingered, a dull ache that refused to subside.

The more you tried to banish these visions, the more vivid they became. You missed him like a starving man craved a feast, a yearning that gnawed at your insides and threatened to consume you. Frustration gnawed at you. How could you still love someone who'd betrayed you so utterly? How could your heart still ache for a man who chose war over you? The questions echoed endlessly within you, a relentless chorus fueling your self-conscious.

How could you be so weak?

These consuming questions were your companions for a whole year. But as the second summer after Luke's betrayal rolled around, a shift occurred within you. The raw, agonizing pain began to dull, replaced by a quiet resolve.

Finally, you decided it was time to take back control again. Camp Half-Blood called, a familiar haven among the storm. You returned a changed person. The vibrant smile that once adorned your face was a ghost, replaced by a guarded expression that spoke about the pain you harbored in silence. The camp's familiar energy felt hollow, a constant reminder of the happiness you'd lost.

Training became your sole solace. You'd disappear into the arena for hours, your celestial bronze sword a blur as you cleaved through training dummies, each swing fueled by a potent cocktail of grief and anger.

Exhaustion became your closest companion too. You pushed yourself to the limits of your endurance, hoping to find oblivion at the bottom of an empty fuel tank. But sleep, when it finally came, offered no escape. You'd dream of him, leading his army of rogue demigods, his eyes filled with a fanatical zeal that chilled you to the bone. And in those dreams, you'd see yourself, standing beside him, not out of loyalty to his cause, but out of a desperate yearning for the boy you once loved, still love.

In the quiet moments, when your friends weren't around, the dam would break. You'd collapse onto your cool and empty bed, tears streaming down your face, a raw, primal sob escaping your lips. The memory of Luke was no joy anymore, it haunted you like a specter.

You hated yourself for the traitorous flicker in your heart, the desperate, illogical yearning for him. It wasn't the war that tempted you; it was him.

You hated how much you missed him.

The scent of rain clung to the humid night air and to you like a second skin as you zipped up your duffel bag. Another summer at Camp Half-Blood loomed, promising a bittersweet mix of nostalgia and pain, but more training. The worst was yet to come, so you needed to be ready.

New York City, with its cacophony of car horns and the anonymity of millions, had become your refuge these past few months. In Manhattan, the memories of Luke seemed to hold less power for some weird reason, their edges dulling with the passage of time. You'd spent the past months in this tiny apartment, the silence deafening compared to the constant hum of life at camp.

Just then, a sharp rap on the door shattered the silence of your apartment. It was past midnight, an unusual time for visitors.

Adrenaline surged through you. Months of living fully alone had honed your senses. You'd become acutely aware of the city's underbelly – the flickering shadows that could hide monsters thanks to the ever-present mist. You'd seen them stalking the streets, stalking you, their true forms hidden to them mortals, an unsettling feeling crawling up your spine whenever their paths crossed yours. They never attacked, but their chilling presence followed you like a phantom.

Grabbing your necklace, you asked, "Yes?"

Silence. You weren't taking any chances. Pulling down at the pendant once, the necklace morphed into your celestial bronze dagger.

You took a step, two. Could it really be a monster? Could it really be some creature trying to get to you, by knocking on the door? With a shaky breath, you cracked the door open just enough to peek through the gap, hiding the dagger behind your back.

The sight that greeted you stole the air from your lungs.

Standing on your doorstep, bathed in the harsh glow of the hallway light, was Luke. His dark hair was windswept, his face etched with a gauntness that hadn't been there before, but his eyes – those were the same eyes that had haunted your dreams for months. They held a desperate plea, a flicker of the boy you once loved struggling to break through the hardened shell of the man he'd become.

“Luke?”

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words and a tangled web of emotions. Time seemed to warp in that hallway, a single moment stretched into an eternity. Luke looked different, yes. The carefree boy you knew had been replaced by a man hardened by experience, his features etched with lines that spoke of battles fought and burdens carried. But his eyes, those brown eyes that had once held a mischievous twinkle, now held a deeper sadness that mirrored your own.

"Hi" Luke finally said, his voice raspy.

You stood speechless, the dagger still clutched tightly in your hand. Years of longing warred with the fresh wounds of betrayal. You wanted to scream at him, to unleash the torrent of hurt and anger that suddenly washed over you. But something held you back, a flicker of curiosity, maybe.

"Um, can I come in?" he continued, his posture pleading despite his attempt at nonchalance.

Jesus. Was that all he had to say? After everything, after what he did, all he could muster was a request to enter your apartment? A tide of anger threatened to drown you. Did he not understand the gravity of what he'd done? Did he not realize the pain he'd caused? But you forced your thoughts down. You weren't a child anymore, throwing tantrums wouldn't solve anything.

"Are you armed?" you asked, your voice flat, devoid of any warmth.

Luke flinched at your question, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "You think I wanna hurt you?" he countered, his tone defensive.

"Last time I saw you," you spat back, your voice laced with bitterness, "was three years ago, and I know your little monsters are keeping an eye on me. The first thing I'm supposed to think about is whether you want to hurt me or not."

He sighed, a long, weary exhale. Unzipping his jacket, he turned slowly, patting down his pockets before turning back to you. His eyes, once alive with mischief and love, were now filled with a desperate sincerity. "See? No weapons. Just me."

You studied him, a battle raging within you. One part of you wanted to slam the door, to let him know that he wasn't welcome. Yet, another part, a smaller, more vulnerable part, couldn't help but cling to the flicker of hope that flickered amongst the ashes of your love.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you stepped aside, allowing a sliver of space for him to enter. "Fine" you said, your voice devoid of warmth. "But you better have a good reason to come here"

Luke hesitated for a beat before stepping inside. He closed the door softly behind him, the sound echoing through the tense silence. He stood there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning the room, landing finally on the packed bags besides the tv.

"You're heading back to camp?" he asked.

You flipped the dagger in your hand, and the celestial bronze morphed back into the golden necklace. "What do you want?" you repeated, your voice still sharp, a shield against the emotions swirling within you.

Luke stood awkwardly in the doorway, the once carefree boy replaced by a man burdened by the weight of his choices. His leather jacket seemed to hang heavy on his broad shoulders.

"I…" he started, then stopped, seemingly unsure how to proceed. He cleared his throat, the sound scratchy and unfamiliar. "You look different" he finally managed, the words tumbling out awkwardly.

You scoffed, a humorless sound that surprised even you.

"Look, yn" he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper, "I wanna talk, okay? I know what I did was wrong. I know I hurt you."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "You could say that again."

His fingers twitched at your bitterness, but pressed on. "I came here because..." He hesitated again, seemingly wrestling with an inner turmoil. "Because I-"

Frustration bubbled up within you. This cryptic approach, this lack of honesty, it was infuriating. "Because you what, Luke?" you demanded, your voice laced with a sharp edge. "Because you decided to grace me with your presence after leading a rebellion against the gods? Or maybe because you just wanted to see if I'm still waiting for you?"

You watched his face harden, the vulnerability replaced by a familiar defiance.

"Don't twist this" he snapped, his voice firm. "I came here because..." He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. "Because I miss you, yn. I miss us."

The air crackled with a tension so thick you could almost taste it.

You took a slow step towards him, then another. He took notes of yourself as you did. The way you had grown internally was so intense that he could sense it everywhere. He might have betrayed you, but that only helped you get on your feet stronger, grow stronger. Become the warrior he always knew you were.

Then, in a move as instinctive as it was fierce, your hand lashed out. The slap connected with a stinging crack, the sound echoing through the apartment like a thunderclap. Luke's head snapped to the side, a crimson handprint blooming on his cheek. Shame flickered in his eyes as he scoffed, quickly replaced by a dull acceptance.

He deserved it, that much was clear.

"How dare you?” you spat, your voice shaking with barely controlled fury, "How fucking dare you come back here after what you've done? After leading a rebellion against the gods, after putting everyone we care about at risk? After betraying me?"

Luke took a shaky breath, running a hand over the burning mark on his face. "I'm sorry” he said, his voice low and ragged. "I'm so sorry. I know I hurt you, and I know a simple apology won't erase the pain or fix things. But you have to believe me, I never meant for things to get this bad"

He stepped towards you, his hands outstretched in a placating gesture, but you flinched back, the space between you a tangible barrier. "Don't touch me" you warned, your voice laced with ice.

He lowered his hands, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I know you hate me for what I´ve done. For joining Kronos, I-“

"You think this is all about Kronos?" you cut him off, your voice shaking with barely contained fury. "You think the reason my heart has been broken these past years is because you joined a fucking Titan?"

Luke remained silent, the weight of your words pressing down on him like a collapsing mountain. He knew better.

"This is about what you did to me, Luke" you choked out, tears welling in your eyes. "I was with you, all the time. I was your girlfriend! And you betrayed me. You left me alone” your voice broke so hard that you had to take a second to swallow the big gulp that was forming in your throat. “Everyone at camp looked at me after what you did," you choked out. "They either felt sorry for me, or they insulted me, saying that I was still loyal to you, that I was a traitor."

You closed your eyes for a moment, the pain etched on your face a stark reminder of the devastation he'd wrought. "You were the most important person in my life" you cried, your voice raw and vulnerable. "But you? You let Kronos fill your head with empty promises, and just like that, you forgot about us."

The truth felt like a bitter pill to swallow. He opened his mouth to speak.

"I asked you to come with me" he finally whispered, his voice thick with regret. "I gave you the chance to leave with me."

"And even after I said no," you countered, your voice trembling like the finger that was now pointing at his chest, "you still left. You threw me away like shit. And do you know what the worst part is?" Tears streamed down your face, tracing a path through the dust of old heartache. "That as much as I try, I can't seem to hate you."

A sob escaped your lips, shattering the fragile dam you'd built around your emotions. "I still love you, Luke" you confessed. "Even though it's a love that fills me with pain, it's still there. I hate myself because I dream about you, about the way things used to be. But when I don't, I feel like a piece of me is missing."

You looked up at him, your eyes brimming with tears and a raw vulnerability that left Luke speechless.

What had he done?

"I hate myself because I can't help but pray for your safety, even though you never seemed to care about mine. I hate myself because even after everything, I still love you, Luke."

Your heart felt like a shattered kaleidoscope, a million shards of love, anger, and pain reflecting back at you in a distorted reality. You walked and sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as sobs racked your body.

Luke, his heart heavy with a remorse sharper than any weapon, watched you crumble. The carefree girl he fell in love with was gone, replaced by a woman etched with the scars of his own actions. Hesitantly, he reached out, placing a hand on your back as he sat down next to you, a gesture of comfort that felt more like a branding iron on his guilt.

"yn” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "I still love you too."

You didn't respond, the sobs coming in ragged gasps as your body struggled to contain the storm within.

"I know I left you" he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "And you didn't deserve it. But… I was so lost, so angry. Kronos promised me power, a solution to all the problems I saw. He convinced me that Olympus was corrupt, that the gods didn't care about half-bloods like us. And when you said no, he-, he told me to leave you behind, said that it would be easier for everyone…"

His voice trailed off. Easier for who? Easier for him, perhaps, to sever the ties that bound him, to plunge headfirst into a rebellion fueled by manipulated ideals.

"But it wasn't" he choked out, a tear escaping his eye, carving a glistening path down his cheek. "Every day, every step I took… it was a constant reminder of what I'd lost. The guilt was eating me alive, yn, you have to believe me”. His hands desperately reached for yours, trying to get your fingers to intertwine by placing his over yours.

Tears welled up in his own eyes. "I regret everything. I mean it. I don't want to do this anymore."

You finally lifted your head, your eyes red-rimmed and brimming with unshed tears. Luke looked different to you now, the bravado and arrogance gone, replaced by a vulnerability that mirrored your own.

"Don't want to do what?" you asked, your voice hoarse.

"This” he gestured vaguely to himself, but you didn’t quite catch it. "Following Kronos. Helping him rise to power. It's wrong. I can see that now."

“Little late to that, isn’t it?” you blurted out.

He took a deep breath, his expression resolute. "yn, there's a reason I came to you. A reason I risked Kronos' trust in me." He paused, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Kronos wants me to become his host."

And the world seemed to suddenly stop. You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Your mind raced, trying to process what he had just said. Luke, your Luke, becoming a vessel for the monstrous Titan?

"What?" you croaked, fear coating your voice like frost. Your eyes darted around, searching for a way out, a solution, anything. But Luke wouldn't meet your gaze, his jaw clenched tight, a storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. "No. No, he can't. It's not possible."

The thought of him, Luke, being consumed by Kronos, twisted your insides into knots.

Luke, however, seemed to gather his resolve. "Yes, it is" he said, his voice low and strained. "There are things you don't know, yn. Things I've done."

A cold dread gripped your stomach, a physical manifestation of the terror that clawed at your insides. Your mind raced, desperate for answers. "Then tell me" you only managed to say. "Luke, what have you done?"

He hesitated, looking around as if afraid someone might be listening. "There's no time now" he finally said, his voice tight with urgency. "But I promise I will explain everything. That's not why I'm here."

Taking a deep breath, he dared to reach out, his hand gently grasping yours, finally. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you, a stark contrast to the chilling fear that gripped you.

He called your name, his voice softening. "Come with me" he said.

You only feel capable of frowning your brows in confusion. "Go where?" you asked, your voice wary.

"Anywhere" he said, like a plea. "Let's run away, together. It can be just you and me again"

He leaned closer, the air around him crackling with a tension that mirrored the storm within you. As his forehead rested against yours, a jolt of electricity shot through you. It was a familiar warmth, a spark that had ignited countless stolen kisses and whispered secrets back when your world wasn't teetering on the brink of war. His other hand cupped your cheek, the touch a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you. His hand, usually warm and comforting, felt cool against your burning skin, a physical reminder of the distance that had grown between you. Yet, despite the chill, a wave of longing washed over you, a yearning for the simple comfort of his touch.

But reason tugged at you, a voice of caution in the midst of the storm. "But Luke," you stammered, pulling away slightly, "If you escape, Kronos will come for you. He'll come for us, and-,"

"I don't care" he interrupted, his voice resolute, yet laced with a tremor that betrayed his bravado. It was as if he was on the precipice, teetering between defiance and the vulnerability of a man on the verge of breaking. "I'll fight everything that comes for us. And if the war happens... I'll fight. I'll fight for everyone, I’ll fight for you. I'm not losing you again, yn."

His words resonated deep within you, a desperate echo of the love you still harbored for him, a love you thought you'd buried beneath layers of anger and sadness. You saw the fear in his eyes, a fear that you sadly shared, but beneath it, a flicker of something else – a raw, desperate hope. And as you looked at him, a wave of relief washed over you.

The relief of knowing he wasn't entirely lost, that a part of the Luke you loved still existed.

"I love you" he confessed again, his voice trembling.

Looking into his eyes, a storm of emotions swirling within them, the truth resonated with you. "I love you too" you whispered, the words tumbling from your lips like a long-awaited confession.

The world did indeed, stop. The rain, a relentless symphony against the window pane, faded into a distant murmur. The thunders became a muffled echo. In that moment, the only reality was the space between you and Luke, charged with the unspoken electricity of your confessions.

He leaned in further, a hesitant question in his eyes. A flicker of fear danced in their depths, a scared boy seeking forgiveness beneath the warrior's facade. You watched him, a bittersweet ache blooming in your chest.

With a sigh that trembled on your lips, you closed the distance. Your lips met in a hesitant touch, a tentative exploration of a forgotten familiarity. Three years of longing, of unspoken words and simmering emotions, poured into that kiss. It was sweeter than you'd dared to imagine, a warmth that spread from your lips and drizzled down your chest.

Unlike the passionate encounters of your past, this felt different; like kissing him for the first time. Luke's lips moved against yours with a reverence that sent shivers down your spine. He held back, his desperate desire tempered with a respect that surprised you. You knew him.

But then, you yielded. Your lips parted, a silent invitation, and his tongue met yours in a dance as old as time. A full, heavy and angry thunderclap erupted outside, a jarring contrast to the intimacy unfolding on the couch. But you paid it no mind, lost in the whirlpool of rediscovered affection.

Your arms encircled his neck, a desperate hold. He, in turn, cupped your waist, his touch lingering on the curve of your hip as he gently lowered you onto the soft cushion. His body hovered above yours. His lips, however, remained glued to yours, a relentless exploration that spoke of a love both fierce and fragile.

The kiss deepened, a slow burn that threatened to consume you both. You felt the familiar rhythm of his heart against yours, a counterpoint to the frantic beat of your own. It was a melody of second chances, of unspoken apologies and nascent hope.

His hand trailed down your back, teasingly brushing under your shirt, sending shivers dancing across your skin. You arched into his touch, a wordless plea for more. But just then, he pulled away, his breath ragged, his eyes a storm of conflicting emotions.

His voice, a husky murmur against your skin, sent shivers down your spine. "I missed this so much," he whispered, his lips trailing down the delicate column of your neck and the dip of your collarbone. His warm breath mingled with your own, a heady mix of emotions swirling around you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, the familiar texture a stark reminder of the past you both desperately clung to. He reached for your pulse, slowly sucking in before letting it pop.

"I wanted to feel you every night" he confessed. "Every night, I dreamt of you." His words were a stark contrast to the cold, distant Luke you saw in your dreams, the only vivid memory you’ve had of him the past years.

"Luke" you whispered, your voice barely audible as you tried to speak.

He didn't stop. His hand drifted down your torso, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your lower tummy. Every touch felt like a brand, a searing reminder of what you had lost and the uncertainty that lay ahead.

"It was a mistake" he said, his voice thick with regret. "A big, fucking mistake. Leaving you, betraying you-, it was the biggest mistake of my life. My life doesn't make any sense without you."

With a strangled sound, Luke deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own. You clung to him, a drowning sailor grasping at a lifeline. The scent of leather that clung to him was intoxicating, a familiar anchor in this storm of emotions.

"Luke" you managed to gasp between kisses, a flicker of reason breaking through the haze of desire. You needed more than just words, needed a binding promise, something concrete to hold onto if you were to take this leap of faith.

He stared at you, his eyes a storm of emotions – desire, confusion, and a flicker of something that might have been annoyance. But before he could respond, you pressed on.

"Swear on it, Luke" you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "Swear on the River Styx” you repeat. Luke’s eyes dart back and forth, from your lips, to your eyes, to filling up with confusion. “I’m not-,” you cut yourself off as you feel your eyes filling with tears again. You bit your tongue before speaking, “I’m not letting you hurt me like this again"

You knew it was selfish, a desperate attempt to safeguard your heart. But Luke was here, finally, after all this time. You craved the warmth of his touch, the comfort of his presence. The thought of letting him go again, of enduring another betrayal, was unbearable. Yet, a part of you, still scarred from the past, craved a guarantee, an oath sworn on the most powerful river in the Underworld. It was dangerous, yes, but did you care?

Did he care?

Luke's expression hardened. The River Styx, held a weight that couldn't be ignored. The river he already bathed himself in. It was a binding vow, a promise etched in the very fabric of existence.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a flicker of doubt, a hint of manipulation. But all he saw was the vulnerability, the fear – a vulnerability born from the scars he himself had inflicted.

"I swear on the River Styx" he said, his voice low and solemn, each word heavy with the weight of the oath. "I swear I won’t ever leave you. I swear I love you. I swear I'll fight for you, for us, with every breath in my lungs."

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #pjo series #pjo #pjo smut #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo x you #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan fanfic #pjo luke #luke percy jackson

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nofingjustaninchident · 2 months ago

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hi, can I get a Luke x fem Poseidon reader fic where she joins Luke’s side of the war. Sorry if this isn’t enough to go off of. thank you

ᯓ★ you’re still a traitor

summary somethings happen when poseidon’s older daughter joins kronos’ army.

warnings like, one curse word

word count 0.5k

now listening to traitor by olivia rodrigo

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the ruins of Camp Half-Blood. Tension hung heavy in the air as demigods prepared for the impending war. Among them stood y/n, the daughter of Poseidon, Percy Jackson’s older sister, feeling torn between loyalty to her friends – her family – and a growing bond with Luke Castellan.

As she walked along the shoreline, the waves whispered secrets of power and destiny, calling to her blood. y/n had always felt the ocean’s pull, but lately, it had been overshadowed by thoughts of Luke – the charming, persuasive leader of the Titans’ rebellion. His passion for a new order and freedom from the gods had captivated her.

“y/n!” Luke’s voice broke through her reverie. She turned to find him striding toward her, his blue eyes intense with purpose. “I’m glad I found you.”

“Luke,” she said, a mixture of excitement and apprehension swirling inside her. “I was just thinking.”

“About the war?” The boy asked. It was amazing how he seemed to understand her with just one look, one touch. He stepped closer, his presence both comforting and unnerving. “You know we’re fighting for a better world, right? A world where demigods can choose their own destinies.”

“I know,” she replied, her heart racing. “I’m just... apprehensive, y’know? We’re going to do some bad shit for our friends. I just wished that Percy had come along with us.”

Luke’s expression softened. “They don’t see the bigger picture. They’re blinded by loyalty to the gods who have ignored us for too long. You, of all people, should understand the power we can harness together.”

y/n hesitated, the weight of her decision pressing down on her. She thought of her friends – Annabeth, Percy, the others who had fought by her side. Yet, as she looked into Luke’s eyes, she felt a fierce yearning. “What do you want me to do?”

“Everything will be fine, sweets,” he said, his voice low and caring. “We’ll bring about the change we need. You know that we’re unstoppable together.”

Taking a deep breath, y/n nodded, the decision solidifying in her mind. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I’m with you. Let’s make our own fate.”

Luke’s face broke into a triumphant smile, and he reached out, taking her hand. “You won’t regret it. Together, we’ll show them what we’re capable of.”

As they stood on the shore, hand in hand, the waves lapped at their feet, a reminder of the power they would wield together. The ocean's call resonated within her, amplifying her resolve.

That night, y/n stood by Luke’s side, rallying the troops. Her heart raced with adrenaline, feeling the strength of her ocean heritage surge through her. She had made her choice, and now she would fight for it.

With Luke leading the charge, y/n knew they were about to change the course of history. And as the stars shone brightly above them, she felt an exhilarating sense of freedom – the freedom to forge her own path, side by side with the one who had captured her heart.

#ᯓ★ all my love #⊹ ࣪ ˖ return to sender #pjo hoo toa #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan fluff

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cranberryjuice-posts · 11 months ago

Text

- It’s just you and me -

Pairings - Clarisse La rue x Fem! Daughter of Hecate! Reader

MAJOR SPOILER WARNINGS FOR PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS

Palestine aid link

The battle of Manhattan. The battle that would decided the fate of the Olympians and the future of the world.

You swung your spear, cutting into a hellhound making the animal cry out in pain. Normally the sound of a dog whimpering would of hurt you to the core seeing how your mothers sacred animal was dogs, however after watching your familiar who was a Doberman and a gift from your mother get ripped apart by a monster you couldn’t care less about.. well anything.

Something that also plagued your mind was the daughter of ares. You saw silenas sacrifice. you saw clarisse kill the drakon. You saw her get the blessing of ares. And you saw clarisse practically loose herself.

Angry Tears started to fall down your face once again. After years of liking clarisse she had finally started to look your way, both of you sneaking around just to hangout, spending time away from others and once finding yourself in her cabin cuddled up to the girl. Then she had to go and ruin it all— saying you two would never be something. She decided to tell you that the night before you left for the battle.

You didn’t know where she was currently, probably somewhere fighting some monster in her fathers name. Wiping your eyes you knew you had to focus on what was happening around you rather than your failed situationship. Your hurt ankle throbbing and starting to swell adding to your list of worries.

A tall shadow started to form around you. Cursing you turned to face the growing figure. “Well would you look at that” a young cyclops grinned. Most likely somehwere between being a teenager and adulthood making him an intimidating height but not towering. “A daughter of Hecate, how I’ve waited to kill a child of that traitor bitch”

“My Mother isnt a traitor” You Bit back turning your tired stance to a more defensive one, preparing for a fight. The cyclops let out a deep laugh. “Your mother betrayed Kronos in the first battle against the Olympians siding with his trash like children, she’s selfish only looking out for herself. Who’s to say she won’t betray you”

His condensing laugh made the hairs on your arms stand up. The cyclops swung his club at you not giving you a chance to defend yourself — throwing you against a wall.

Groaning you sat up only to roll out the way to avoid getting crushed. Frantically searching around you tried to find your spear only to see it snapped in half across the way.

Standing up you limped over to a fallen demigod grabbing his sword, taking the weapon you tried to defend yourself.

The next thing you knew the monster had back handed you. Landing on the ground you flinched waiting for the final hit from the monster… only for it to never come.

“Get up” Clarisse yelled. You quickly looked up seeing the girl, after a moment she noticed your ankle. Scoffing clarisse picked you up bridal style.

She set you down into her chariot that was now scuffed up with dirt, weapon marks and blood. Bringing it up to the infirmary station she quickly walked inside.

“Stay here” she ordered before running off, going to grab some Apollo kid she snatched him by his shirt throwing him in your general direction. “Clarisse you can’t just drag me away from different kids” will complained rubbing his neck before taking notice of you. “Help her, I’ll make it up to you just make sure she’s fine first” clarisse crossed her arms. Everything was happening so quickly that it didn’t complelty process that clarisse.. the Clarisse was worried about you.

Will gently grabbed your ankle making you cry out in pain. It was broken. You watched as the young kid started to run around grabbing different items to make a splint.

A weight covered your hand. Looking up you saw clarisse rubbing soft circles over your now dirtied palm. You knew she had alot on her shoulders. Taking her hand into yours, you gently squeezed her hand to show her you stood with her.

Always.

Will soon came back. Him placing your ankle in a splint hurt like hell but the ambrosia he soon provided help you calm down.

Your breathing eased out and the pain soon subsided. You hand felt empty as clarisse pulled away.

She grabbed a sword that was leaning on the wall and tightened her armor as if she was about to go back out. Debating for a moment you hoped off from the counter you sat on limping towards the girl.

You ignored Will who was yelling at you. Clarisse heard the commotion happening behind her, she turned around and before she could yelled at you grabbed her by the top part of her breast plate pulling her down into a kiss.

A moment later clarisse wrapped an arm around you lifting you up some to get your weight off the hurt foot. Kissing you lovingly but also desperately as if it would be the last time she saw you.

Pulling back you softly hit the girl on the breast plate. “Don’t get killed, I swear to god if you fucking die I wi—“ you were cut off by another kiss. You felt clarisse smiling some against your lips, mentally you wanted to beat her ass but you knew better.

Once clarisse pulled back she placed another soft quick kiss onto your lips “have some faith in me ok.. I’m coming back, it’s just you and me” she rested her forehead against yours before walking back and leaving the hotel.

———

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse larue #clarisse my beloved #clarisse x female reader #butch clarisse #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #percy jackson show #pjo show #pjo fandom

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to-fly-with-clipped-wings · 9 months ago

Text

A Sea of Sorrows -> Act 1, Part 1

Act 1: the Fall of the Gods

Dear Percy. This was the year the Gods fell from Olympus, and I fell from you. I miss the us from that year. I wonder, did either of us know what was in store?

Series Summary: A chronicle of the moments you fell in love with your enemy, Percy Jackson. An epilogue to your fate and an epitaph to your grave.

AKA in a universe where you are a traitor to Camp Half-Blood. This is an ode to the boy that led to your downfall: Percy Jackson.

Series Masterlist

Percy Jackson Masterlist

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

i. “OH, OH, tell us again how the legend goes?”

Your eight-year old self bounced on the heels of your feet. The little blue birthday hat atop your head started to slip, the elastic string too long to fit snugly around your head, but you hardly bat an eye. You clap your hands together, giggling, staring in awe as yet another star sparks in the sky and, it too begins its spiralling descent from its heavenly abode and to the feet of your earth-dwelling mortals.

The star’s trail of divine dust, marking its venture across your frail vision, was reflected in your eyes. You raised an arm, as though trying to pluck the celestial from the sky.

Silena Beauregard giggled as she reached over to fix your askew birthday hat.

You didn’t know if it was the mind of your eight-year-old self manipulating a shroud mist around the girl or if she genuinely held the most ethereal, luminous pieces of the sky within her dark blue eyes. You didn’t know, or perhaps, didn’t want to remember, if her midnight silk hair, glossed and draped over her shoulders as the night enveloped the horizon, had been anything but that. The bracelets around her wrist tinkled as she went about drawing your astray strands of hair back. You could smell her perfume as well, but its scent was so fleeting that you could never seem to recall it once she left.

You smiled at her, like if you had even the slightest chance, you wouldn’t have hesitated to delve into the velvety curtain of the night to retrieve only the finest of stars for her eyes to hold.

She smiled at you, as though — impossible as it may have sounded — as though, in that moment, she loved you.

“Well,” she started, leaning over to place both you and Annabeth on her lap.

Clarisse La Rue took that chance to rip off her birthday hat (red, she had insisted) and replace it with her usual bandanna. The Stoll brothers, apparently, took great offence to that gesture, as they too whipped off their own hats to brandish like daggers at the Ares girl. Clarisse snarled at them, before taking her own, very real, spear and threatening to shove it down their throats or in some other choice places.

Beckdorf smirked, crossing his arms as he turned his head to appraise the face-off between the brothers and Clarisse, but he didn’t make any move to discourage the oncoming fight. And then, as was usual, Luke — the golden boy, the older brother to all campers (no matter if you were younger or older than him) — sighed, as though he’d just lost fifteen years of his life from their spat, and then plucked Clarisse’s spear out of her hands and lightly pushed his half-brothers into each other, sprawling onto the ground like dominoes.

“Can’t you guys ever settle down?” he asked, rolling his eyes. But then he smiled, so all of you knew that he didn’t really mean it. “I mean, it’s little Major’s birthday today and all we want is to enjoy the meteor shower in peace.” “Little Major is contradictory,” frowned Annabeth. An onlooker might’ve thought that Luke had just wished a deadly curse upon her entire bloodline, from the way her grey gaze furrowed. “How can she be little and major at the same time? It doesn’t make any sense!”

Before Luke could make a teasing remark (you could tell from the way the outer corner of his lip, the one without the dimple, twitched upwards), you cut in. “Please, Selly, pretty please! Tell me about the shooting star?”

“It’s a tale of wonder,” Silena finally began, her pearly white teeth shining through her picture-perfect smile. Her tone was hushed, like she was whispering a super-secret secret to the girls, “forged by immortals under a sky, much like this one.”

“In the days of old,” continued Beckondorf, his contribution to the conversation surprising you. The muscular boy was of few words, but you supposed that Silena’s presence had drawn him out from his carefully crafted shell. You and Annabeth shared amused looks, far more knowing beyond your years.

“The Greeks looked up to the heavens and saw the gods in every corner of the night. They believed that the sky was a grand canvas, a blank machine of sorts, where the gods etched their stories in constellations and galaxies.”

“Now, the gods, they weren’t distant watchers,” said Silena, glancing at Beckendorf as she spoke. She looked at him as though she wasn’t reciting the tale to you, but to him, the only other person in the world. “They were keepers of hopes, weavers of destinies. And sometimes, just sometimes, they would lean so close to Earth that a star would slip through their fingers and streak across the sky. That’s what we call a shooting star.

“The legend goes that in those fleeting moments, the veil between us and the divine thins. It’s when the gods are listening, truly listening, to the heartbeat of the world. And if a mortal, pure of heart and full of hope, makes a wish upon such a star, the gods take notice.”

“They say that Aphrodite smiles upon lovers,” spoke Luke softly. He gazed up at the sky, and then toward the pine-tree in the far distance. “Athena guides the seekers of wisdom, Ares leads man into war, and that, if you were truly of a golden heart, Zeus himself might offer his insight.”

His voice dwindled off, and if, at the time, perhaps you hadn’t been so caught up in your childish, insolent elation, you might’ve picked up on his bitter tone.

Annabeth turned to you. “So, on your special night, let’s wish on all the shooting stars. Together.”

Silena nodded, resting her head on Beckendorf’s shoulder. “Close your eyes, you wish on that star. You wish and you dream wish with all that is there in your heart, and just, believe. Believe, as the gods are kind, and they cherish the dreams of their children.”

“But you remember, Major,” Luke turned his saddened gaze back to you. “That old star can only take you part of the way. You have to help it along with some hard work of your own, and then, yeah. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

“Just promise us one thing,” murmured Silena. “That you'll never, ever lose sight of what's really important.”

“I don’t know what to do,” You stared up at her anxiously, fiddling with the string of your birthday hat. “Could you show me how to wish?”

She smiled once more, and it felt like the balance of the stars and sky had been reborn to take the form of Silena Beauregard. “Oh, I’m sure you already know how to do that.”

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

ii. Against all odds, you would say that you were looking forward to the Yancy school trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Yeah, you didn’t really care about art or architecture or the weird little naked statues of the gods (you definitely didn’t appreciate that), but you were looking forward to your first extraction mission as a demigod — even if this little outing of yours couldn’t be considered a quest, and even if it was long overdue.

Being undetermined was a disease in the world of Greek mythology, and it was a disease that followed you like the plague. it was a curse when your Godly parent refused to claim you, refused to acknowledge you. You were cursed from the start, cursed to run around, seeking kleos, and for what?

For absolutely nothing.

That was something no one let you forget. From your spot on the floor in Cabin Eleven, to the brown mass of curls on Grover’s head that frantically kept glancing back at you to make sure that no monster had snuck up on you during the last thirty seconds he hadn’t been looking at you. It even took Chiron about three years worth of convincing to let you go out, as he used the same reason (excuse) over and over again: you aren’t claimed. You don’t know how to defend yourself. It is too dangerous.

That’s what it always boiled down to.

You weren’t claimed, fine. You didn’t need to be claimed to be able to fight.

It was always the same broken record that played whenever someone opened their mouth, but instead of sweet melodies or even sweeter, praise, it was the string of never-ending, ‘you aren’t strong enough. You aren’t brave enough. You aren’t good enough.

You aren’t claimed.’

A voice in the back of your mind churned traitorously. Although, you supposed that you shouldn’t be the one to talk about betrayal.

The speculations held merit, it had whispered.

Once a demigod was claimed, it was said that their powers grew exponentially. A claiming was essentially a blessing from your divine parent’s hand, a way of saying ‘I, as your parent, grant you your birthright as my child.’ You became blessed by Olympus to become faster, better, and stronger, a means to defend yourself from the monsters that lurked in the outside world.

But the thing was, once a godly parent claimed their kid, their godly side also began to radiate monster-attraction scent that enhanced their presence to monsters in a nearby radius. One would argue then, that meant unclaimed half-bloods would be better suited to high-risk jobs since they were at a lower risk of monster attacks than claimed ones.

“But,” Clarisse La Rue had argued, “that also means that you have less experience fighting monsters, so what happens if you encounter a beast like the minotaur on the field? Less experience, plus no divine blessing is a stirring pot for demigod death.”

“So,” Chiron blinked at you, not unkindly. “You need to understand, we simply cannot be sending you out of camp, Major. Your mother is not in a state where she is able to ward off monsters, and you…”

You…

You are not strong enough, you finish in your head bitterly. You were not strong like the others, not because you weren’t good with a sword or spear, but because you were not good enough to register as a child to your divine parent.

It was always Major, the side-kick. The pathetic little Robin to Luke’s Batman, or the golden rope to Annabeth’s Wonder Woman. Always the damsel in distress, never the prince. Always the one in the shadows, never the hero. Always the angel, never the god.

Since your mother’s passing four years ago, you had become a year round camper so you had more training under your belt than, say, ninety percent of the Apollo cabin. Yet, even they were allowed to leave camp and get up to all sorts of nonsense.

Were you not enough for your godly parent to look up from whatever divine duties they needed to do? Were you not good enough for your godly father to come down to save your mother when she was on her deathbed? You weren’t even sure if your father knew your name.

You sent Grover a small smile when he glanced back at you again.

Next to you, Percy Jackson, pulled a face.

Percy was a thirteen year old boy. With staggering sea-green eyes, black hair and tan skin, he was the half-blood Grover had called Chiron out for. For a year, it had been you, him and Grover fighting your way through the hell-hole that was Yancy Academy. Between failing classes, cheating off each other during tests (and failing those anyways because apparently both of you sucked at academics equally) and throwing dirt into Nancy Bobofit’s eyes, whenever she threw her weird bits of peanut-butter-and-ketchup sandwich on Grover, you would say that you and Percy were probably each other’s closest friends. Throughout the year, you and Percy had become each other’s anchor. You shared the burden of academic challenges, often finding peace in the fact that if you were going to fail, at least you’d do it together.

There was a certain comfort in Percy’s company, a sense of acceptance that was rare and maybe even precious. He never looked at you with eyes of thinly veiled judgement that others often did, nor did he offer unwanted pity, that felt more like a burden than a comfort. It was probably because he had no idea of his demigod heritage, but with Percy, you were just you.

Unclaimed, maybe, but never unseen.

You liked Percy’s company, and you were impatiently waiting for the day Chiron gave you the all clear to return to Camp Half-Blood. There you and Percy could spend your days picking strawberries, sparring, whatever it was you two wanted to do. And hopefully, Percy would end up being unclaimed, or maybe even the son of a minor god, so you could ride out your days in the Hermes Cabin forever. Maybe one day, you would even be promoted to having a bunk. That would be especially great.

“Excited for the trip, Major?” Percy grinned at you.

You sighed, tilting your head on your seat so you could glance at him through the corner of your eyes. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Ahead of you, Grover squawked when Nancy Bobofit threw another bit of her sandwich at him.

“I’m going to kill her,” muttered Percy, his eyes darkening at the red-headed girl.

You patted Percy’s knee, trying to stop him from leaping toward Nancy. She sucked, but it wasn’t worth Percy getting expelled from Yancy just yet.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

i. “It’s easy,” said Luke, clapping your little, eight-year-old self on the back. “Wait and watch.”

And that you did. With bated breath and rapidly trembling fists, you waited and waited until the stars started to pour once again from the sky. They streaked down the horizon, the eyes of the sky shedding them like divine tear drops or that raindrops that slid down a window — the sort you would bet on with Annabeth about which would reach the sill first.

Beckendorf pointed at the brightest one he could find. He cleared his throat before saying his wish under his breath.

You tilted your head in confusion. “I didn’t hear the wish,” you frowned.

Luke smiled gently, his facade of happiness not quite reaching his eyes. “That’s the catch. You can’t let anyone find out about your wish, otherwise it won’t come true. It’s just between you, and the gods.”

He turned to the sky once more, and uttered his own wish. This time, you tried extra hard to pick up what he was saying, but you couldn’t hear much. You did catch a few words, something about history? It didn’t make too much sense to you though.

It was Silena’s go next. Her cheeks were pink as she made her wish, and she looked at the ground instead of the stars. Her wish was so quiet that even though she had placed you and Annabeth on top of her, you couldn’t hear a thing.

Annabeth Chase, Clarisse La Rue, Travis and Connor Stoll, Harmony Crosscov and Critos Lyalin all prayed for their wishes as well. It wasn’t hard for you to predict what theirs might've been about. Annabeth’s probably had to do with architecture, Clarisse’s with her spear (possibly making it more deadly, even though you didn’t know why exactly a ten year old needed a super deadly spear in her collection). Travis and Connor probably asked to get a key for the camp’s gift shop so they could raid it even when it was locked.

Harmony, a daughter of Apollo, had picked up the lyre she was strumming and held it to the sky as she wished, so you suspected hers had to do with maybe creating the most beautiful melody mankind had ever heard with it (although she already did that, so you didn’t know why she needed to use her wish on that). Critos was a son of Demeter, and he was the only one who weren’t entirely confident about, but you thought maybe it had to do with one of his plants — like the petunias that kept wilting? He had always complained about those.

Now, everyone had made their wish. Everyone but you. Your birthday posse turned to face you, the birthday girl, as you prepared to make what was going to be the most important wish of the night.

You were beside yourself in excitement. Today was your eighth birthday! The gods had to grant your wish, that was the intrinsic birthday rule, wasn’t it? The gods had to be looking, heck, maybe even your godly parent was looking. Maybe, just maybe, today would be the day you would get claimed.

You thought about using that as your wish. ‘I wish to be claimed.’ But you decided against it. You had only been at camp for about two months, that wasn’t that long compared to the other camper’s claiming stories. You had plenty of time ahead of you to get claimed, so you didn’t need to rush and waste your wish on something that was inevitable anyways.

Maybe you should wish to win the next capture the flag game? Gods know that the Hermes cabin would be ecstatic if you did. What about acing the Ancient Greek vocab test you had the next day? No, you shook your head. You were going to fail that anyways, wishing on a star wouldn’t save your pitiful grades. You would just have to hope Annabeth would be in a ‘helping-Major-cheat’ mood tomorrow.

Maybe you should wish for something to do with your mother? You frowned.

The thought of her laughter, her warmth, her guidance - all the things you missed the most - flooded your mind. ‘If she could come back, would she be the same?’ you pondered, the uncertainty a heavy stone in your stomach. ‘And what would she think?’ The frown deepened as you considered. It wasn't just about what you wanted; it was about the balance of things, the natural order. But… she’s gone now. Was she? Could this wish bring her back?

You opened your mouth, but before you said anything, another thought struck you. And with that thought, a sense of peace began to settle over you, as if your mother's wisdom had reached out from beyond, guiding you once more.

That was it!

The most perfect wish. The gods had to grant it, there was no way they could refuse. It would be the best blessing, the most perfect divine grant that couldn’t possibly be refuted.

In your excitement, however, you forgot about the wishes-were-supposed-to-be-super-top-secret-so-you-must-whisper-them rule, and ended up just blurting it out of your mouth, words churring out faster than you could comprehend.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

ii. Chiron — sorry, Mr. Brunner, led the museum tour.

It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before. Ancient Greek armour (that you knew weren’t that ancient), pots with little dancing figures painted on them, steles with, to no one’s surprise, weird naked statues of gods running across them. It was really nothing special, just the usual artsy stuff mortals were crazy for, but you did get a kick out of Percy snapping at Nancy when Chiron was rumbling about something to do with Greek depression or something.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Percy gave her his nastiest stink-eye.

Everyone laughed. You nudged Percy’s shoulder, and he turned his gaze to you, kicking your shoe in retaliation, before remembering that Chiron and Mrs. Dodds were still there, and they didn’t look happy at all with Percy’s interruption.

Mrs. Dodds was an interesting character. She despised Percy with all of her being (not heart, you weren’t sure if she had a heart), but you would say she had a soft-spot for you. Like whenever she gave Percy after-school detention for blowing up a bin or something, you would turn, smile at you and hand you this weird melted candy bar that tasted oddly like hot fudge and sea salt?

While the chocolate was a much appreciated gesture, you didn’t enjoy the way she snapped at Percy, and you agreed that there was something off about her. Like in the way she wasn’t exactly… normal? But you doubted anyone would listen to you anyways, and if Chiron hadn’t picked up on it, then it probably wasn’t important.

“Mr. Jackson,” began the centaur in disguise. “Did you have a comment?”

“No, sir,” said Percy, his cheeks burning red.

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. “Perhaps you’ll tell us what this picture represents?”

Percy looked to where he was pointing. He nodded slightly, that he knew the answer to that question (if he didn’t that was fine anyways, you would’ve just whispered it to him). “That’s Kronos eating his kids, right?”

“Yes,” Mr. Brunner said, raising an eyebrow. “And he did this because…”

“Well… Kronos was the king god, and —”

“God?” Mr. Brunner asked.

You flinched slightly when Percy said it; you didn’t think the gods would be willing to hold back if they caught him making that little comment. The gods had incredibly short fuses, and it was often their temper that caused the most destruction — like when Ares shot that one archduke back in 1914 and started World War 1.

“Titan,” Percy fixed. “And…he didn’t trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—”

“Eeew!” squealed a girl from behind you.

“—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans,” Percy powered through, “and the gods won.”

Nancy Bobofit mumbled, “like we’re going to use this in real life. Like it’s going to say on our job applications, ‘Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.’”

You didn’t like Nancy much, but there was probably some merit to her question. The gods cared so much about themselves, that one day they probably would manage to hijack mortal job interviews into a pop quiz of ‘what is Aphrodite’s favourite brand of perfume’ or ‘write a one thousand word essay on why Zeus is most supreme god, explaining clearly why his brothers Poseidon and Hades suck ass.’

You rolled your eyes.

“And why, Mr. Jackson,” Brunner said, “to paraphrase Miss Bobofit’s excellent question, does this matter in real life?”

“Busted,” Grover muttered.

“Shut up,” hissed Nancy, her face even brighter red than her hair.

Percy looked pensive for a moment, the most pensive you’d ever seen him apart from when he needed to decide between blue cookies or blue jelly beans. “I don’t know, sir.”

“I see.” Chiron sighed. “Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan’s stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld.”

Kronos. The name sent chills up your spine. The Titan lord who had once ruled before the gods, now a whisper from the past, yet his legacy lingered like a shadow. As Chiron recounted the tale, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of foreboding, a sense that the history of the gods and Titans was not as distant as it seemed.

Your gaze shifted downwards to your trembling hands. You clasp them together to try and steady them. The tales of gods and Titans, of heroes and monsters, they all seemed like distant echoes of a world you were forced into but never truly belonged. You felt the weight of your unclaimed status, a constant reminder of your place, or lack thereof, in this mythological nightmare.

You watched Percy. His fate was yet to unfold, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. He had a path, albeit unknown to him, but you… you were adrift in a sea of uncertainty, a ship without a sail.

The gods, those mighty beings who played with the lives of mortals and demigods alike, they were the root of your turmoil. How easy it must’ve been for them, to watch from their celestial thrones, to judge and to ignore the pleas of their children.

In the days to come, I would stand by you as you discovered the truth. But, when the weight of your destiny became too much to bear alone, my greatest regret was that I could not stand beside you. Your bond was a testament to the strength that friendship and loyalty could bring. Mine was a testament to the darkness and hatred of our world.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

iii. The battlefield was before you, a canvas of chaos painted with the scars of war. The earth itself seemed to mourn, its once green flesh torn and charred. The battlefield stretched out, a vast, open wound upon the ground. The grass was soaked with the blood of fallen warriors, and squelched underfoot as you walked among the remnants of what had once been a fierce and vibrant camp. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of burning flesh, a sensory assault that would haunt you for all your days.

The earth, which had once cradled life, now cradled the fallen, its bosom scarred by the violence it had witnessed. The camp, once a beacon of hope and strength for demigods, lay in ruins, its vibrant pulse silenced, save for the mournful wind that whispered through the shattered remains.

Luke Castellan had returned, but not as the triumphant hero he had set out to be. His quest to retrieve the golden apples had failed miserably. The cost of his ambition was written in the blood and lives of his quest mates, who had perished along the way. The monsters he had inadvertently brought to the camp's boundary were now a symbol of his failure, their snarls and roars a chorus of impending doom.

Amidst the cacophony of clashing steel and the cries of the wounded, a shadow loomed large. The dracanae, a beast of nightmares, slithered through the chaos, its presence a dark omen. Its scales, as dark as the void, absorbed the light around it. They were fighting not just for their lives, but for the very soul of the camp, against forces that sought to extinguish their light forever.

Monsters had breached the camp's defences, and panic had taken hold.

Luke stumbled across the boundary line of the camp, his face marred in blood, blood, blood. Luke's arrival had been a tragic procession, a lone figure staggering under the weight of failure and loss. His face, a mask of agony, was a stark reminder of the cost of their endeavours. The blood that stained him was not just his own but that of his questmates, their lives extinguished.

One of his eyes was doused in the red, liquid, acid, and you could make out a gruesome scar that trailed from above his eyebrow right down to his jaw. You sucked in a breath.

You had watched, your heart shattering, as Luke's knees buckled, his strength waning. The monsters he had unwittingly led to the camp's boundary now surged forward, eager to feast on the grief and fear that hung heavy in the air.

His face was as though it had been split open. You dropped your sword, and immediately rushed toward your old friend. Luke cried out in pain as he brought a hand up to his wound in an attempt to hold his face together.

“Luke! Luke!” you shrieked, almost tripping over the armour that was too big for your ten-year-old body. “Luke!”

You ran toward them, engulfing him with your arms. You had run, small legs carrying you faster than they ever had, toward the brother who had taught you to be brave, to fight, to hope.

The battle raged on beside you, but you could hardly care, for your oldest brother was in your arms with his heart and soul bore open and torn to shreds.

As you had reached him, the world seemed to slow, the sounds of war fading into a hushed lull. You had wrapped your arms around him, a futile shield against the tide of darkness that threatened to engulf you both. Luke's eyes, once bright with mischief and courage, now mirrored the devastation that was before you.

The battle had raged on, indifferent to the small, poignant scene at its fringes. But for you, in that moment, there had been nothing else—only the piercing grief of a child holding onto the last remnants of a family that was swiftly being torn away.

“Archers!” Lee Fletcher called out to his fellow half-siblings. “On my mark!”

The sky above was a tumultuous canvas, where the wrathful gods seemed to paint with clouds the colour of bruises and ash. Their indifference hung heavy, a suffocating blanket over the carnage below.

You had once prayed to them, believed in their wisdom and justice, but now their names left a bitter taste on your tongue.

“Now!”

A volley of arrows spiralled through, each one hitting its mark. One, two, three arrows in rapid-fire succession knocked off the beasts that stumbled into camp boundaries. A cyclops that had been standing over a bloodied mass of a young girl, hollered in pain as an arrow pierced its singular eye. A draco aionius roared out a blast of fire, but your eyes were so wrung out with tears and blood that you couldn’t see who it had shot down before it had been killed. The dracanae lashed out one final time before exploding into a heap of golden dust.

The cries of the wounded rose around you, a haunting chorus that melded with the wails of those mourning their kin. You saw families torn apart, sisters cradling lifeless sisters, brothers with eyes hollowed by a brother’s loss. Each face was a mirror of your own despair, reflecting a shared agony that would bind you to them in grief.

You stumbled upon the body of the young son of Demeter, his chestnut hair matted with blood, his eyes forever staring at a sky that offered no solace.

Critos, you sobbed. Critos…

A mistake that no amount of tears could wash away. A young camper, a son of Demeter known for his gentle spirit and his ability to make the flowers dance, lay still on the ground.

With a heart heavy as lead, you made your way to the infirmary, the air thick with the scent of herbs and the low hum of healing chants. There, among the rows of cots, you saw her—a daughter of Apollo. Harmony.

The sight of her, your friend who had once filled the air with melodies so sweet they could make the sky weep, struck a new chord of pain within you. Her hands, those delicate instruments of beauty, were now disfigured by the violence in the name of the gods. She had dreamt of music that would touch the divine, but now her dreams lay as shattered as her bones. Now, those hands were stilled, and the music was no more.

Her hands, once so deft at the lyre, now lay motionless by her side.

Her eyes met yours, and in them, you found not blame, but a silent understanding. It was the cruelty of fate, not the will of gods, that had brought this upon her.

She looked up at you, her eyes not accusing but filled with a sorrow that echoed your own. In that gaze, you saw the reflection of every broken promise, every shattered hope. She had been there to celebrate your life, and now here she lay, a casualty of a battle she had no part in starting.

Anger surged through you, a fiery torrent that threatened to consume everything in its path. The gods, those distant arbiters of fate, had watched impassively as your world crumbled. They had remained silent, their celestial indifference a stark contrast to the cacophony of grief that filled the camp.

Your mother, a casualty of their indifference. Critos, your dear friend, your found brother. Harmony, who would never play her instruments again. Her god-given gifts, the blessings bestowed upon her by her father had been ripped away from her. You knew it — injuries, bone fractures, that were severe beyond repair. No one apart from the gods could save her, but you knew that no matter how much you wished on the stars, they would never answer.

You wept for Thalia, who you had never known but who had died for you and your family. You wept for Annabeth, her face wrapped in a cast of bandages, and was laid on the cot next to Harmony. You wept for Luke, who was only a few steps away from the white bags that enshrouded that bodies of—... of the fallen.

They were all lives that could have been saved.

Silena cried in Beckdorf’s arms. Their shared silence was louder than any words could ever be, a mutual understanding of the depth of their sorrow.

In this moment of profound loss, the realisation hit you like a wave crashing against the shore: wishes were but fleeting thoughts, powerless against the tides of fate. The gods, distant and enigmatic, offered no solace to the grieving hearts of mortals. It was a harsh lesson, one that stripped away the veneer of mythical heroism to reveal a truth as old as time itself.

Was this what they had meant about not relying on some magical stars to make a wish?

The gods, those distant beings, had taken from you the family you had found in this band of warriors. They had watched from their lofty thrones as you had fought, bled, and wept, mere pawns in their celestial games. And in that moment, as the weight of loss bore down upon you, you felt the seeds of hatred take root. Hatred for the gods who had forsaken you, hatred for the fate that had been thrust upon you, and hatred for a world that could be so cruel.

In the end, you could only truly rely on yourself to make wishes come true.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

iv. Strapping your head-piece securely on, blue plumes spilling from the top. Your armour was strapped on and you were decked out in metal from head to toe. You double-checked that your sword was tucked into your sheath before joining the Athena alliance in their march for the Capture the Flag match.

You quite liked Capture the Flag. It was one of those games where you had to do something and everyone got to run around and play — albeit, Camp Half-Blood kids did run around like headless chickens most of the time.

Percy scrambled to catch up with, tripping over his shin-guard that was a few sizes too big for him. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you grinned at him.

“So what’s the plan?” He asked. “Got any magic items you can loan me?”

You shook your head. “Nah. Sorry. Magical items are things you get from your godly parent when they feel like it. I haven’t got anything.” you waved at your basic sword for effect. “That’s why I usually go with one of the spare swords from the training shed.”

You pointed at his pocket. “You’ve got Riptide, though, haven’t you? That’s more than enough.”

Percy shrugged. “I don’t have it anymore, it vanished. I’m stuck with a regular, boring sword like you.”

You frowned at this. Didn’t Chiron give it to him? He should still have it, shouldn’t he? “That’s strange. Just make sure Clarisse’s spear doesn’t touch you, it's electric and stings like hell. Annabeth will handle getting the banner from Ares.”

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Okay, Major.” He said ‘Major’ with the same tone you would call someone ‘Bossy’.

You laughed before catching him by the strap of his armour when he tripped over again. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Border patrol, whatever that means.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “That’s easy. Stand by the creek, keep the reds away.”

“What’re you doing?”

You rubbed your chin thoughtfully. “I think I’m supposed to be a decoy for Luke when he runs for the flag.”

Percy looked at you appraisingly. “I guess you do look like him. I see how that would work.”

He swerved to avoid getting a faceful of the dirt you’d kicked up at him with your shoes.

Percy then started chasing you down to the creek where the Athena alliance were planting their flag, similar to how the satyrs would chase the dryads near the strawberry patch albeit a lot slower because of his armour that was triple his body weight.

You stopped when you reached the silver flag, causing Percy to topple into you and send the both of you flying into the ground. You laughed, tugging the boy up with your hands and punching him in the shoulder. He huffed before waving at you and walking down to the creek to assume his duty of border patrol.

You went to stand by Luke.

Overall, you would say Capture the Flag was a success.

The Athena win streak was not lost this match, and you got to beat down one of the Hephaestus kids with your sword, which was always a pretty good bonus. The blue team cheered loudly, carrying Luke on their shoulders as he waved the Ares flag about in the air. You were going to join them when you saw Percy, drenched in water, arguing with the air.

“I told you. Athena always, always has a plan,” said the air before shimmering and revealing Annabeth with her invisible yankee cap.

“A plan to get me pulverised,” snapped Percy. His arms were crossed as he stared down the daughter of Athena.

“I came as fast as I could. I was about to jump in, but…” She shrugged.

“You didn’t need help?” you suggested, popping up between them.

Percy’s glare dropped as he saw you. “Sup, Major. I’m guessing decoying for Luke went well?”

“The best,” you agreed before noticing the wound on his arm. “How did you do that?”

“Sword cut,” He said, rolling his eyes. “Stupid Clarisse and her pig-headed minions.”

“No,” Annabeth interjected sharply. “It was a sword cut. Look at it.”

You watched, incredulous, as the blood disappeared. Where a gaping wound had been, only a faint line lingered, and even that was fading fast. In moments, it dwindled to a mere scratch, then vanished as if it had never been.

The smile slipped from your face.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

iii. Being a demigod was a curse.

It was a relentless burden, especially when you had been confined within the walls of Camp Half-Blood for four years, and still, your divine parent remained a shadow, unclaiming and aloof.

You lifted your face to the heavens, rain simmering on your face like little angels doting you with frigid kisses, each drop mingling with the silent tears that trembled down your cheeks. It was almost as though you were praying, but you knew better than that.

Prayer had once been a solace, a hope, but now it felt like a bitter reminder of divine neglect.

The pyres stood ready, a grim assembly for the ritual of farewell. The rain fell in a relentless drizzle, each drop a cold, indifferent tear from the heavens. You stood before them, the shrouds of your fallen family draped over the lifeless forms that had once been vibrant souls among you.

Being a demigod had always been a double-edged sword, but never had the blade cut so deep. The walls of Camp Half-Blood, which had once offered sanctuary, now felt like a prison, holding you captive with your grief and rage.

You raised your face to the sky, the rain washing over you, a cruel mimicry of the comforting touch you so desperately needed. It was as if the gods themselves were mocking your pain, offering water when it was solace you sought.

Your heart was a cauldron of fury, simmering with a silent rage that threatened to boil over. The gods, those distant observers of mortal toil, had turned their gaze away, leaving you to fend for yourself in a world that seemed to crumble at your feet.

As you stood there, the injustice of it all seared your soul, igniting a fire within that no amount of rain could douse. Betrayal was a bitter pill to swallow, and it lodged itself firmly in your throat, a constant reminder of the gods' neglect.

Your hands, though trembling, were resolute. The delicate tremor was not a sign of weakness, but a testament to the strength that surged through your veins—a strength born of anger, of loss, of an unwavering commitment to those you called family.

With a heavy heart and a spirit ablaze with determination, you stepped forward to light the pyres. The flames caught quickly, their hungry tongues licking at the shrouds, consuming the last physical remnants of those you loved. The smoke rose to the heavens, a silent scream of defiance against the gods who had forsaken you.

In that moment, as the fire crackled and the rain wept, you made a silent vow. You would do anything for your family, for those who had stood by you when the gods had not. You would be their protector, their avenger, their unwavering support. And though the gods may have turned their backs on you, you would never turn your back on those you loved.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

iv. “I—I don’t get it,” he said.

Annabeth was deep in thought, face wrinkled in concentration, and you could only imagine the intense mental gymnastics happening behind her gaze. “Step out of the water, Percy.”

“What—”

“Just do it.”

Percy emerged from the creek, hair plastered to his face and body bone-tired, but strangely enough, completely dry. He swayed on his feet, and you reached out to steady him, your touch firm.

“Oh, Styx,” Annabeth cursed. “This is not good. I didn’t want…I assumed it would be Zeus.…”

You could only meet Percy’s gaze in a muted horror.

Of course you’d picked up on Annabeth’s train of thought. But the revelation left you reeling. You couldn’t believe it. You thought… of course they wouldn’t stick to the oath. This — the one thing! How could they? What?

Your jaw clenched, and your grip on Percy tightened subconsciously.

Percy opened his mouth but before he could say anything, a canine howl reverberated throughout the forest.

Everyone tensed and Chiron barked out “Stand ready! My bow!”

Above you, a monstrous creature crouched on the craggy ledge, its silhouette massive against the sky. Its eyes burned like coals from the depths of a forge, and its massive jaws bristled with teeth, each one as lethal as a freshly honed blade. It stared down at you with an intensity that pierced through your body.

A hellhound. Your eyes widened, gripping the handle of your sword.

Nobody moved except you, who yelled, “Percy, run!”

You tried to step in front of the boy, your sword clutched in between your fingers. The hellhound barked, and although you expected it to forget Percy and redirect its course to you, it dove past you (ignoring you completely) and ripped into Percy’s armour.

You didn’t look back as Chiron and the Apollo cabin took care of the hellhound, focusing on Percy whose chest was blooming with deep, red bloodstains.

“Percy!” You cried out, dropping to your knees beside him. Your fingers fumbled with his chestplate, trying to ignore the slick, warm blood that coated your hands.

“Di immortales!” Annabeth exclaimed. “That’s a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don’t…they’re not supposed to…”

“Someone summoned it,” Chiron announced, trotting over. “Someone inside the camp.”

The dead body of the hellhound melted into the shadows, presumably returning back to the Underworld, only, you didn’t care. What you cared about right now was Percy Jackson who was drenched in blood with a horrific gash torn into his body.

“You’re wounded,” Annabeth told Percy as if no one knew that. “Quick, Percy, get in the water.”

You draped Percy’s arm around your shoulder, helping him step into the creek with little protest.

“Chiron, watch this,” Annabeth said.

As Percy staggered into the creek, the water seemed to greet him like an old friend. The blood that had painted his clothes a grim crimson began to dissolve, carried away by the gentle current. You watched as the gruesome wound in his chest closed before your very eyes. The torn flesh knit together, leaving not even a scar behind. It was as if time had reversed, as if the claws of the hellhound had never touched him.

But that wasn’t the part that stunned you the most.

“Look, I—I don’t know why,” Percy tried to apologise. “I’m sorry.…”

“Percy,” Annabeth said, pointing. “Um…”

There was a sign above Percy’s head, an unmistakable one that no one did not know. A hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming. A three-tipped spear: a trident.

“Your father,” Annabeth whispered. “This is really not good.”

“It is determined,” Chiron stated solemnly.

Campers knelt around you, even those from Ares’ cabin, though they did so grudgingly.

“My father?” Percy was bewildered.

“Poseidon,” said Chiron. “Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”

A shadow was drawn upon your face, eyes fixated on the trident above Percy’s head. The throb in your head returned and all you felt was a torrent of fervent, quivering, absolute rage that coursed through you.

I know that it wasn’t your fault, Percy, but at that moment, I couldn’t think of anything else.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

iv. The shroud burning had already taken place, the flames extinguishing along with the last rays of twilight. The camp was shrouded in darkness, a reflection of the sorrow that enveloped your heart. You stood alone, the grief a tangible presence that seemed to suffocate you with its intensity.

The gods had remained silent, their absence in your hour of need a betrayal that stung sharper than any blade. The ritual had been meant to offer closure, but it had left you feeling hollow, the embers of the pyres like the dying light of your hope.

That night, as the world around you faded into the quiet hush of slumber, a curious sensation took hold—a dream, or so it seemed, yet not quite. Dreams were fleeting. They often slip through the fingers of your mind, vanishing from your memory once you woke up. But for some strange reason, you felt the trickling trail of deja vu climbing up your spine.

You thought that you’d had this dream before. Probably.

A shiver of recognition danced up your spine, a whisper of memory that felt like an old friend—or perhaps a ghost from the past. It was a dream that had etched itself into the grooves of your mind, returning with the silent stealth of a cat prowling in the night.

You strained to recall the last time this dream had visited you. It could’ve been a year ago, a month ago — even last night. But you did know that you’d had it. This dream had treaded the halls of your sleep before.

In the realm of dreams, you found yourself wandering through an ancient forest, the moonlight casting ethereal shadows upon the ground. The air was thick with the scent of pine and the whisper of leaves. The moon, a sliver in the sky, provided scant illumination, casting long, haunting shadows that danced between the ancient trees. Your footsteps were muffled on the forest floor, as though the earth itself conspired to keep your passage secret.

With a heavy heart, you spoke into the storm, “You could have saved her, but you didn’t.”

The words hung in the air. “My mother. She was one of your most faithful, but, when she needed you most, you turned away. Why? Was her devotion not enough? What about Critos, who died alone, without his family, on the battlefield? What about Silena, who lost her sister? What about Harmony, who will never be able to use her hands again, never able to exercise the blessing that you gave her. What about all the countless other demigods, older and younger than me, who died for a cause — your cause — whose names you will never bother to remember.”

The silence that followed was your answer.

Your voice broke as you continued, “What about me? For years, you ignored me — you still ignore me. For years, you left me to fight for myself in a world that you created. I don’t understand. We’re your children, aren’t we? Aren’t we supposed to matter to you? We deserved better.”

“You’re supposed to be our parents. We deserve someone who would fight for us, who would value our lives. But what do we get instead? Fucking selfish deities, with all the power in the entire goddamn world who leave us to suffer and die in some sick game you orchestrate just because you can!”

“You don’t understand! I’ve waited my whole life for just a sign from you. Our whole lives revolve around you! What more could you want from us?” The tears of the sky dripped onto your shaking form.

“You take life after life! You take, take, take when we’ve already given you everything you could have ever wanted!”

The thunder seemed to mock your pain, and you trembled with a mixture of cold and fury. “You say these stupid things, give us stupid, stupid, naive hope — wish upon the stars, wish upon you and all will come true? We looked up to you! We wished, and wished and wished, but instead, you killed my family, tortured us beyond cruelty. What do you want from me?!”

You were screaming at the sky now, your mind pulsing with nothing but red-hot rage. “I’m done waiting! You’ve shown me exactly what we mean to you — nothing!”

Something clasped your shoulder.

Turning around, your heart caught in your throat. Your eyes trembled, pupils dilated at the sudden contact. As you turned away, a presence enveloped you, not the warm embrace of a father, but the cold touch of something ancient and powerful.

A dark mist surrounded you. The air crackled with static, a lingering feeling of something you couldn’t quite name.

And then, without warning, the forest fell away, and you found yourself standing at the edge of a clearing. The mist swirled here, gathering strength. From the heart of the mist, a figure materialised. It was tall and imperious, its form shifting and wavering as if woven from the fog itself. Its eyes, when they met yours, were bottomless pits of darkness, and you felt yourself falling into them.

“Child,” it spoke, and the words seemed to resonate with the very fibres of your being. “I have watched you, and I know the suffering you’ve been dealt by the gods.”

“They have wronged you, as they have wronged me,” the figure continued, the mist swirling with every gesture. “They sit in their celestial palace, blind to the struggles of those below. But I see your potential, your desire for justice. Together, we can make them regret.”

In the quiet of your dream, your heart stirred. You did not know who this figure was or what he wanted from you, but his words reached you. The gods, those distant watchers, had become but silhouettes against your tribulations, their figures blurred by the tears of your unanswered calls. Beings who had turned their back on you, refused to acknowledge when it mattered. Left you unclaimed, left your mother to die, left your brothers and sisters to die, and since the beginning of time, left humanity to suffer in a cyclic torture.

And, so close, was the embrace of the mist — echoing your fury, validating your resentment.

“Why should I join you?” you asked, though part of you already yearned for the vengeance he promised.

“Because your rage is a weapon that can reshape the world,” the mist replied, its form growing more defined, more commanding. “The gods fear what they cannot control, and they cannot control the fury of the heart. I will help you shield the loved ones you have left. If you join me, I promise they will be safe in the end. We will turn your fury into a force that will shake even the heavens. And you, my dearest, Major, will see to it that your family is treated better than the gods would ever care to allow.”

The mist’s words were a poison, sweet and lethal, the dream reached its peak, as you teetered on the cross-roads of a decision that could alter the course of history.

You stood still, the realisation dawning on you like a cold sunrise. This was Kronos, the Titan King, the very essence of time and treachery. The air around you grew colder, the mist swirling with a newfound intensity.

The mist around you thickened, and Kronos’s voice became more insistent. “I can help you,” he whispered again, the words slithering through the air like a serpent.

You felt the anger and sorrow within you stir, manipulated by his words. It was a dangerous game he played, but in your heart, the seeds of rebellion had been sown.

“Join me,” whispered Kronos.

“Yes,” you found yourself saying, the word escaping your lips before doubt could take hold. “Yes, I will join you.”

With a resolve born of grief and betrayal, I turned my back on the sky and walked away. That was the moment, when I was only ten years old, that I swore my life to Kronos. It was the moment, I think, that sealed our fate.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

i. “I wish that we would all stay together.” you said.

“That’s my wish. I wish that, no matter what, no matter what place or lifetime we’re in, we will always, always, be family.”

“Promise me, ‘kay?” you continued, not fully sure if you were still talking to the gods or the people around you. “That in this life and the next and the one after, we will always find each other. Because we’re family.”

You turned to the demigods around you, who have all taken on some form of shock. The younger ones look appalled that you spoke your wish out loud (“how will it come true now?” protested Annabeth, though her face was tinged with a pink blush), while the older ones wore expressions you couldn’t quite discern.

“Major…” Silena breathed, her eyes, for some reason, glossy. Was she upset that you had said your wish too loud?

“I mean it!” you looked to the heavens earnestly. “We’re family now, we have to stick together. Forever and ever and ever.”

Another star crossed the twinkling night tapestry. It was a dark, terribly dark, night, but unless someone else had been sharing this story, to you, the moment would remain of the most bright, luminous scenery you’d ever had the honour of bathing in.

The gentle hand of the gods met their mortals upon the ground through the sky’s scattered stars, and they coated you and your family in their mystical star dust.

Luke blinked himself out of his stupor. He offered you his hand to shake. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Major. Gods or not, we promise. Family.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, a gesture as warm as the sun's embrace, which seemed to spark a chain reaction. Annabeth, with a smile that could light up the darkest of nights, followed suit, her arms joining his. One by one, the rest of your family, a patchwork quilt of half-bloods, each with their own stories they bore in their hearts, came together in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

Under the star-swept sky, a canvas dotted with celestial wonders, the group hug grew, a living, breathing entity of connection and joy. You shrieked with laughter, the sound mingling with the chorus of chuckles and snorts around you. It was a symphony of happiness, a melody that resonated with the very core of your being.

You tried to pull your head out of the mass of limbs you’d become entangled within, seeking a breath of air, only to be lovingly dragged back into the fray. Someone’s hair tickled your nose, another’s elbow nudged your side, but it was all part of the beautiful chaos that was your home.

The hug was more than just a physical act; it was a promise, a silent vow of unity and support that needed no words. It was the understanding that no matter where life's journey took you, these bonds would remain unbroken. And as you stood there, enveloped by the people who had become your world, you knew that this moment would be etched into the stars above, a memory as eternal as the night sky itself.

“This is— the— best birthday— ever!”

And thought you meant that. You really, really did.

I wish I could’ve said sorry to you, Percy, back then.

Maybe then we could’ve stood a chance. * . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Random fun fact: Major is anti-government and hates taxes 🥶😊, she also likes liquorice

taglist!!! (comment if you want to be added): @itzmeme

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ssparksflyy · 4 months ago

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BUT I DONT WANNA DANCE, IF IM NOT DANCING WITH YOU ♡ !

pairing percy jackson x ballerina!reader summary (smau) just a few days in the life as a pro ballerina nd her loving bf ( ꈍ◡ꈍ) an guys i dont know anything abt ballet please dont come for me 😭 also!! first smau and first time writing in foreverrrrr

♡ liked by perseajackson, annie.beth, prettygirlpipes, hazelluvsu, clarisseswrld, lightning.mcqueen and others

soyn last few days in the studio have been soso hectic but im forever great full i get to spend them with some of the most beautiful amazing dancers in the whole wide worlddd ‹𝟹 ( dont forget to buy ur tickets for our upcoming recital !! )

annie.beth u guys literally look so good !! popped in the other day to help with lighting issues and oh em gee im so excited nd proud!!

⤷ soyn and u didnt say hello !! literally what !!

⤷ annie.beth my boss didnt let me ᴖ̈

⤷ soyn they hate to see us together fr

tallesttiptoes blood sweat nd tears going into this guys buy ur tickets ꃋᴖꃋ

⤷ soyn no literally like the amount of band-aids i have on rn ....

⤷ perseajackson can confirm shes gone through two boxes of hello kitty band-aids in the last month

lightning.mcqueen where can i buy tickets plsss (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

⤷ soyn TY JASON !! (balletwebsite.com) !!

♡ liked by soyn, letsbefrank, sillysallyjackson, underwoodz, annie.beth, fireboy, lightning.mcqueen and others

perseajackson day like forty seven of trying new recipes except when i tried making what i had originally planned i spilled like half of our salt ... we resorted to pasta but its a win cause my gf loves pasta

fireboy how the hell did u spill half of ur salt

⤷ perseajackson ive literally watched you intentionally put seven cups of salt into a cake before

⤷ fireboy ... and what im a salty man

⤷ prettygirlpipes we know

lightning.mcqueen waiting for the day u make me dinner ᴖ̈

⤷ perseajackson ill make u a full course meal bro dw

⤷ lightning.mcqueen bro ily

⤷ perseajackson omg no ily more

view more replies

soyn best chef in ny fr !! after ur mom ofc

⤷ perseajackson real i can never compete with her she'd eat me up

⤷ soyn its cause she's sally jackson babe dw

now playing ... birds of a feather by billie eilish

♡ liked by annie.beth, soyn, perseajackson, lightning.mcqueen, hazelluvsu, fireboy, letsbefrank and others

prettygirlpiper group met up at the fair this weekend nd omg ... i have not laughed n had so much fun since i cant even remember like core memory fr + everybody's fav couple making the whole fair feel single

annie.beth WE LITERALLY NEED TO DO THIS MORE IT WAS SM FUN

⤷ fireboy YALL DONT UNDERSTAND I HAVE NO LIFE IM FREE WHENEVERRR ( ˶•ᴖ•) !!

hazelluvsu i had so much fun except for when i almost died of laughter after watching jason lose at thirteen games in a row

⤷ lightning.mcqueen TRAITOR

⤷ perseajackson damnnnn u did my man dirty hazel

⤷ letsbefrank nah cause it was genuinely sad after a while

⤷ lightning.mcqueen percy ur the only one who understands me

soyn ily guys sm omgggg (pipes dont be shy send me that pic ˘ ³˘)

⤷ prettygirlpiper i gotchu pooks dw ♡

♡ liked by perseajackson, tallesttiptoes, letsbefrank, luvrgirlsteph, annie.beth, prettygirlpiper, fireboy and others

soyn im working late, cause im a singer dancer ( recital is in two days we r stressing but so ready !! )

tallesttiptoes OH YEAH im so ready (im not ready at all) literally so pumped (crying in my closet rn) i CANNOT wait (im going to kms)

⤷ luvrgirlsteph WE GOT THIS GIRL DONT KYS ‹𝟹

perseajackson ilysm babe u got this !!

⤷ soyn tysm percy ily (��̣̣̥ᴖ˂̣̣̥)

⤷ prettygirlpiper omg i hate u guys #bringbacktoxiccouples

⤷ perseajackson stay jealous

hazelluvsu u got this yn !! ur an amazing leader i just know all the girls in ur studio r so lucky to be working with u !!

⤷ tallesttiptoes YESS WE AREEEE

⤷ luvrgirlsteph yn my fav dancer fr !!

⤷ soyn ilysm pretty girls ‹𝟹

now playing ... new years day by taylor swift

♡ liked by perseajackson, tallesttiptoes, annie.beth, prettygirlpiper, fireboy, clarisseswrld, lightning.mcqueen and others

soyn theres glitter on the floor after the party, girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby, and i am holding onto these memories as they hold onto me- we did it !!

perseajackson words cannot explain how proud i am of u babe, i literally started crying and the guy next to me hugged me and we cried TOGETHER

⤷ soyn NO WAY NO U DID NOT

⤷ lightning.mcqueen yes he did leo and i can confirm ill send u the pics rn

⤷ soyn THIS IS GOLDEN WHAT

fireboy THAT WAS SO COOL U LOOKED LIKE A PRINCESS I WANNA DO BALLET

⤷ soyn BETTTT LEO U GOT THAT

⤷ prettygirlpiper ohmygod i cannot wait to see how this ends

annie.beth U GUYS DID SO WELL IT WAS AMAZING !!

⤷ hazelluvsu my jaw was literally on the floor to whole time ꃋᴖꃋ

⤷ letsbefrank drop the leg day routine cause HOW

⤷ soyn STOPPP ILY GUYS SM (˃̣̣̥ᴖ˂̣̣̥)

#howd i do guys #i hope u liked it :D #also yes i used kaomojis so i didnt have to use actual emojis #theyre cuter ok #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #pjo x reader #pjo smau #seaweed brain ⋅˚₊‧𓇼 #by bells ♡⋆ ࣪.

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reiniesainyo · 10 months ago

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IN BETWEEN. charlie bushnell x reader – 04

04 | I CAN SEE YOU previous | next | masterfile

SYNPOSIS. when a girl's co-star is good to her and now she wants it more than everything in between. (smau)

A/N. there's some filipino in this chapter, which I'll have translations placed in between the lines!

liked by iamcharliebushnell, leahsavajeffries, and 302,457 others. thelnarchives “oh percy, i think your battle’s just begun.” 🌊⚔️

user1 rina's conversation with percy before he leaves instead of it being chiron or whatever is so ... so . i'm gonna cry over those lines for days user2 the angst they're setting us up for is insane

iamcharliebushnell oh my muse thelnarchives oh my traitor iamcharliebushnell oh that's not! thelnarchive no, in the sense that–

user3 oh the charlie-yn chemistry my roman empire

user4 i'm gonna miss seeing her on screen so much i need something soon

leahsavajeffries it was such a pleasure working with you 🥹 can’t wait for more scenes together, thank you for being my ate thelnarchives leah my baby bunso i love you so much you're so amazing

user5 yn calling leah "bunso" ie youngest in an affectionate manner and leah calling yn "ate" meaning older sister is so cute this isn't right i have diabetes

dior.n.goodjohn IMY IMY IMY IMY IMY IMY IMY IMY IMY IMY IMY IMY IMY IMY IMY thelnarchive i miss you too, dior!

user6 this cast is so smitten for her and i see why and i know why user7 she's such a sweetheart ik they said not to trust celebrities but like oh my god

iamcharliebushnell wait i just saw the whole post, yn the third photo is foul. that's foul. thelnarchive you love me still walker.scobell that's because you're the only one who will dior.n.goodjohn BRO GOT COOKED HAHAHAH

walker.scobell yn please come back they tied me to a pole last time please thelnarchive WALKER I WAS GONE FOR ONE DAY THEY DID WHAT???? iamcharliebushnell okay it wasn't like that walker.scobell YOU LAUGHED AT ME YOU CAN'T SAY THAT.

user8 THE THIRD SLIDE IS INSANE user9 she's real for that one though.......

user10 charlie not noticing is sus user11 bro was mesmerized with her beauty

liked by iamcharliebushnell, leahsavajeffries, and 201,498 others. thelnarchives what's this? catch me iamcharliebushnell walker.scobell and leahsavajeffries on the fangirlpediapod this valentines! we discuss not just PJO but also our personal lives :0

iamcharliebushnell for fun here's two snippets of some iconic lines: "the trauma never goes away, it just changes form." and "she's so "i can fix him" core coded yes" thelnarchives there's a reason i'm a debate champion user1 DEBATE CHAMPION???? thelnarchives hear more about my personal life this feb 14

user2 OH I'M SEATED I'M SAT user3 bro i'm sat anyways i don't have a boyfriend

user4 oh the quote she gave ate it ATE i can't wait

fangirlpediapod IT WAS SO SO AWESOME GETTNG TO TALK TO YOU

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lumpyspaceprincess05 · 11 months ago

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Til death do us part

Pairing: Luke Castellan x daughter of apollo!reader

Warning: angst, betrayal, violence, mentions of blood

Word Count: 1.3k

Author note: I really hope you like it!

Summary: After Luke admitted to working with Kronos, he wants you to escape with him. Will you go?

Tensions were high, why wouldn't they be? Luke brought Percy out into the woods where he figured everything out. He was the traitor that they had been desperately searching for. Now, he wanted to recruit Percy to help Kronos with his plan of revenge against the gods for what they had done to him before Zeus took over.

After his failed attempts at convincing, Percy lunged at Luke, sword in hand ready to deal the first blow, but Luke was faster. Always had been. He smirked as the sound of metal clashing over and over echoed through the quiet forest.

Luke was becoming increasingly frustrated. He was angry. This was not how it was supposed to go. By all means, he was not losing. Well, that was until Annabeth removed her invisibility cap and revealed herself to Luke. His smile dropped. If she was here then that means you must be close by.

He already wasted enough time.

The adrenaline coursed through his veins as he fought back even harder against the two he once considered his friends. He eventually overcame them and they were now sprawled on the dirt, trying desperately to regain themselves and capture him.

"Luke!" Your voice echoed as you finally emerged from the tree line. As soon as you saw him, you felt relief and ran over to him nearly knocking him over after jumping into his arms. He smiled as he steadied himself and wrapped his arms around you in response.

You pulled away and cupped his face as you examined him for injuries. "What happened? It sounded like a fight was going on. Are you hurt anywhere?" Your anxiety settled a little as you saw no bruising or blood on his person.

"(y/n), I'm fine. See?" He took hold of your hands that cupped his checks and just held them in his. He looked deeply into your eyes as he gently caressed the back of your thumbs.

"(y-y/n)...get away from Luke." Annabeth coughed, finally regaining her strength. Your head snapped around and you saw both her and Percy lying on the ground and covered in dirt. Also, was that blood falling from Annabeth's cheek.

You quickly rushed over to them wondering how you hadn't noticed them before. "What the hell happened to you guys?" You slowly helped your friend sit up and guided her to lean against the tree.

"It was Luke." She quickly coughed out before losing her breath.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean by that, Annabeth?"

"He's the traitor. He stole Zeus's master bolt and Hades' helm to start a war with the gods. He and Ares used Percy to deliver the bolt to Kronos himself-" Your heart broke at this revelation.

You stood from her side and slowly walked back to where you left Luke standing. A tear rolled down your cheek as you looked at your boyfriend. He avoided eye contact with you, feeling guilty that you had to find out this way.

"Tell me that she isn't telling the truth." And when he remained silent, you had your answer. "Why, Luke?"

He ran a hand through his hair wondering if he should bring you into this. He then spoke.

"The gods need to pay for what they've done to us, and Kronos is the only one able to make that happen," he stepped forward and brushed a loose piece of hair behind your ear before finally settling on your cheek.

"I'm doing this for you, for us. Don't you get that? I want us to be free from our parents. Free to make our own choices. Free from the monsters that want to hurt us. I don't want to live in fear of their wrath anymore. Worrying every single day that we'll never be good enough for them. That they can claim us and just easily disown us without any remorse." He poured his heart out as tears left his eyes. How did I not notice that he reached his breaking point? Have I really been that oblivious to his feelings?

The both of you were in tears. Luke quickly wiped his away as he turned towards the treeline. He grabbed his sword and began cutting into the air until a portal of blues formed.

"I love you, (y/n). I want to love until the end of life itself, but I can't do that with Zeus still on that throne." He reached his hand out to me. "Come with me, please."

The world stopped. Your eyes moved between his open hand and him.

Did you want to go with him? Of course, you did. You would follow him to the very ends of the earth if given the chance. Why would you even consider declining his offer? You loved him with all your heart, mind, body, and soul, and you would do nothing more than spend the last of your days fighting by his side.

He looked at you with desperation you had never seen from him before. He knew you would come with him, but he had a tiny little piece of doubt when you started hanging out with Percy, Annabeth, and Grover. Did their ideals get to you?

There was a war coming and your lover wanted you close to him. This was the only way he knew he could protect you... if you left with him.

You quickly wiped your tears and raised your hand up to his, but a quick shot of a small sword prevented them from joining. Luke cursed under his breath when he saw that Annabeth had quickly recovered her strength and now she held Percy's sword, ready to finish him off once and for all.

Luke quickly grabbed hold of your arm and turned you around with your back to his chest. He held the sword against your neck.

"Drop your weapon if you don't want me to hurt her."

You quietly called him wondering why he was doing this. You had already agreed to go with him. Why did he have to put on a show if the both of you could just run to the portal? You just decided to trust his judgment. He would never hurt you.

"You're bluffing. You'd never harm her." Luke scoffed as he pressed the sword harder against your neck. It made a small cut into your skin and blood trickled down. Ok, that stung a little.

"Do you want to test that theory, Annabeth? Do you really want to be the reason why one of your friends doesn't make it out of here alive to see the sunrise tomorrow?"

She thought about it. Luke was not in his right mind anymore so who's to say he wouldn't go through with his threat. She slowly lowered her weapon and watched as Luke walked backward pulling you along until he disappeared into the portal.

You were both gone.

Percy groaned as Annabeth rushed over to help him up. She quickly wrapped one of his arms around her neck and her free arm around his waist.

"I can't believe that he hurt her. That seems out of character, even for him." He rolled up his sleeves and looked at all the bruises that had gained from the fight.

"It was all a show." She said, matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean?" She shook her head. Oblivious as always.

"He was offering her a way out."

"A way out of what?"

"If Luke held her with a sword to her neck, who's to say she went with him out of her own free will." The cogs started to turn in his brain and a light bulb went off. His face dropped soon after that revelation.

Guilt plagued his mind. "Do we have to tell Chiron about this?"

Annabeth remained silent as she gathered her thoughts. "I didn't hear their conversation really well. Did you? What I just told you right now was just purely speculation." She stated before they began their journey back to camp.

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson characters #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan

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absolutekillswitch · 1 year ago

Text

no alarms and no surprises (please)

pairing: luke castellan x thanatos!reader

tw: major TLO spoilers (honestly tho if u haven’t read it yet, begone), major character death, discussions of blood and death, Luke was reader’s first kiss, mentions of past manipulation, lots of crying, and also i made [REDACTED] take way too long to die for the sake of dialogue. Sorry. Also! she/her pronouns are used, but I tried to steer clear of descriptors outside of that so this SHOULD be woc friendly

word count: 3.4k

It was cruel, this end he was facing. Y/N had felt it long before she’d seen it, that deep intrinsic tug within her, that sixth sense that had begun to go haywire since New York had fallen asleep, since the final countdown for western civilization had officially started running. The tug that alerted her to a new death in her vicinity. The curse bore by the children of death, the chained god, to feel the string of fate being cut, to sense lost souls being carried to the underworld by their father. To mourn, but not to see. She’d never felt it as frequently as she did now, feeling like threads tugging her in countless directions, so much so that her aim with her sword was affected. She’d been coined the best swordsman back at camp, after the previous titleholder had vacated the position, but now, it was like she was jittery, like a newborn zebra with a sword in their grasp, trying to learn how to stand and fight all at once, her battle senses being overridden by the unavoidable emotional pain of the fact that every tug she was feeling, was the feeling of a fellow demigod dying.

But then she’d felt that one.

The strength of this particular tug wasn’t lost on her. It was stronger than any she’d faced yet— stronger than the tugs of those she’d slain herself, and stronger than the tugs of those who had been close to her, when they were alive. It was so strong that the metaphysical tug had felt like a real, physical one, like she was physically being pulled in its direction. The proof of it is the crude slash on her forearm, where the kid she’d been fighting back had gotten a lucky shot on her due to her presently distracted nature.

It had to have been him.

She wasn’t sure just who she’d been fighting, and in the end, she doesn’t think it really mattered all that much, if they were a former camper; a demigod, or if they were an armored monster, as with a wave of her hand, the ground rumbles, opening up under their feet, boney, decayed hands dragging them into the earth, only for the ground to close up on them halfway through their forced descent. Y/N didn’t even notice, nor did she really care. All she knew was that she’d put an end to her own fight, allowing her feet to carry her to his side, numbness flooding her body, with a whispered command to her undead soldiers,

“Protect them.”

She’s not even sure how she found him, exactly. She’d just always been able to find him like that. Now seemed to be no exception to the rule, as she followed what she would consider to be the string of fate to his side. The sight she sees when she does is an unwelcome one, however. There’s three of them— she sees Percy and Annabeth crowded around a figure on the ground. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is.

“Oh, Gods,” Y/N whispers, hesitating to get closer. She doesn’t know if she can. At the sound of her voice, Percy turns. He looks pale, eyes ringed in red. It looks like he’d been crying, exhausted, eyes wide, as if he were afraid he’d collapse if he even blinked. Y/N wouldn’t blame him, if he did.

“Y/N—“ He hesitates to speak, to try and explain, but Y/N doesn’t let him. She’s already marching over, ignoring the dread building in her gut, the tears in her eyes. And that’s when she sees him.

“Luke,” She whispers, the single word bordering on a gasp. Internally, she’s vaguely aware that this is the first time she’d used his name in years, preferring to call him by his last name, or traitor, at best, or whatever random curse she could think of at the time, at worst. She’d gotten pretty good at it, honestly— the coming up with insults to hurl at him every time they’d crossed paths since his betrayal. But now, all of that is gone. It seems that at that moment, Annabeth and Percy disappeared. It’s just them as she crumbles, falling to her knees before he can even protest. It’s him, not Kronos, she knows. They’d all learned how to tell the difference between the two, when Kronos had taken Luke’s face. Kronos had a colder air about him, eyes golden. Just pure evil that seeped into your bones, that seemed to change even the people around you. But this? This was Luke Castellan. Soft, soulful brown eyes, and a welcoming air about him. This was the guy who had been like all of Camp Half-Blood’s big brother. This was the guy Y/N had been in love with ever since she’d arrived at camp, even if she realized it far too late. Even if he was currently trying to get Percy to make her leave, not wanting her to see him like this. Never like this. Her eyes take stock of his appearance against her will. He looked just as bad as Percy did— worse, actually, given he was bleeding, Annabeth’s knife clattering from his hand to the marble below him. It makes her heart ache, the picture in front of her painted so clearly, even if she hadn’t been present to see it herself.

A hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap.

They’d realized what the prophecy meant, clearly. Luke had to be the one to take Kronos— and to an extent, himself— out. And when Luke had done it, when he’d touched his own Achilles heel, Kronos had run. So now, Luke Castellan was dying. Alone.

Well— not alone.

She was still here. She always would be, even if he’d insist otherwise. He hated how she always had made him want to be a better person. Even now, as he lay dying, covered in sweat, blood, and ash. If she tries hard enough, she can almost pretend that they’re back at camp, that they’d had an extremely rough day playing capture the flag, that the pair of them are in the infirmary, making up ridiculous stories for the scars they’ll have as a result of their adventure, shedding tears from their short lived pain in the name of glory but laughing anyway as they stitched each other up, letting the Apollo kids deal with those who didn’t have someone to back them up like Y/N and Luke did— someone to dote on them, and someone to dote on in return. But it gets hard, keeping up this fantasy. They’re both far too battle-worn, both with eyes that had seen far too much, faces years older than they were the last time they’d seen each other. And in spite of it all, all she can find herself thinking is,

‘Oh, love, you grew up without me’.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Luke tells her plainly, his brown eyes fighting to focus on her through his tears that he’s fighting to push back. Had they always done that?

“Yet I’m here anyway. Deal.” She responds, brows furrowing, focusing on the wound in his side. Prophecies be damned, she won’t let him die. He sits up straighter, slumped uncomfortably against a marble wall at the sudden pressure to his side, the daughter of Thanatos trying to staunch the blood flow, trying to give him more time, tears clouding her own vision, hands shaking. She knows deep down that it’s all in vain, but she won’t let him go. Not like this. She’ll fight her father back herself, if she had to.

“Y/N…” He whispers uncomfortably, hating how blood spurts past his lips, onto his chin, as he utters her name. He’s going to die, he knows, he can almost feel the fates beginning to prepare to cut his thread, but there’s some things he can’t leave unsaid. “My— my heart, it was always yours. You know that, right?” He notices how she flinches, expression troubled. “Take care of it, for me. I know you’ll do better with it than I ever had.” It’s true— his entire time at camp, since she’d arrived, he’d stupidly ignored it. He let hate and anger and jealousy cloud his mind for so long, he never really appreciated what was in front of him. It was just unfortunate it was taking his death to realize that.

“Don’t— don’t say that, not to me,” she sobs, shaking hands still covering his wound, stupidly, naively, believing she could still save him. “Don’t make it sound like you’re dying. You’re not dying, damn it,” she still sounds determined, one hand leaving his wound to touch his face, holding his cheek, accidentally staining it with his own blood. “Don’t— don’t leave me here, please, I just got you back,” she pleads, glassy eyes blurring with tears. She thinks, honestly, that this is the first time she’s talking to just Luke, free of Kronos’ influence, since he’d stolen that lightning bolt from Olympus years ago. It’s the Luke she remembers, the one she so sorely missed.

He laughed quietly, reaching up to touch her fingers. Even now, as she was sobbing over him, unable to look him in the eye, she’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her lips were so plump — as if made to be kissed, even in this moment of peril. “The gods might not want me, but I’m glad they’ve given you to me,” he whispered, squeezing her hand in his again. “I’m dying, Y/N. You can’t save me.” This makes her squeeze her eyes closed, shaking her head lightly, as if she isn’t listening. She isn’t, not really.

“No, nononono— stop that,” She cries, her eyes squinting shut in an effort to banish her tears, but it doesn’t work. “I’m— I’m the daughter of Thanatos, damn it, what good am I if I can’t do this? If I can’t keep just one person alive?” She seems to be talking mostly to herself, not giving up her mission on keeping him with her. Not after everything that’s been said, not with everything that’s being left unsaid. “I know this isn’t what I do, that I’m not a fucking sunshiney Apollo kid who can heal someone on a whim. But this is kinda my thing, is it not? Just… Just one. Please, let me save just this one. I’ll never ask for anything again.” She’s looking up at the sky— praying, it looked like, while blinking away her own tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she prayed to the gods for anything, but she was now. To anyone who would listen, though Luke gets the sneaking suspicion she’s talking to her father. The one she blamed, for being unable to save anyone. She couldn’t heal, the best she could do was sit by and watch.

Luke laughed again, but it’s humorless— and it was so cruel, to die when he could feel his heartbeat quickening as Y/N was so close, her lips so near to his, her eyes so lovely. He wished he could kiss her right now, in this moment, on the marble floor, with blood running over his fingers and the dagger still next to them.

“Y/N, promise me one thing?”

“Anything,” Y/N nods softly, her attention turning back to him. She hates how the simple act of saying her name still affected her so much, after all this time. Her tears were cutting through the grime on her face from a hard fought battle, covered in her own and the blood of others, trembling. Still, she finds it in her to make a promise to the dying boy she loved. “Anything. Just—“ she drifts off, nodding, knowing they don’t have time. Luke took a breath, his eyes fluttering shut. For the first time in his life, he genuinely felt like a young man. A teenage boy, holding his girlfriend's hand and wanting nothing but her to keep safe. For a moment, he can pretend. But only for a moment. His breath hitched, and slowly, he felt the life fading from his body — as if it was being drawn from him like water in a cup. He hesitates to speak, but knows he’s running out of time. He can feel it, being sapped from his bones. But in spite of that, he’s not… afraid. He isn’t angry. He almost isn’t even in pain. He thinks it’s her, that it’s Y/N’s aura as a daughter of Thanatos, that no one in her vicinity will feel pain, a divine remainder of her father’s power flowing in her veins, the guide to the underworld, before they’d meet the ferryman. A walking shot of morphine. He’s heard stories from his spies, about how when Camp would lose a camper during their fight with Kronos— with him—, Y/N would stay with them until they passed, holding their hand, telling stories, bringing them peace, so they would go out with a kind face. Much like she was doing now, for him. The Thanatos of the waking world, the guiding light to death. It’s much more than he deserves, and he knows it.

"Promise me.... you'll meet me again... at the River Styx," He whispered.

“I’ll find you in Elysium.” She promises softly through sniffles, brushing his hair out of his face, a forced soft smile on her own face. She wants him to go out peacefully, wants to remember her smiling, even if she wants to scream at the sky and cry until she couldn’t breathe anymore. She’d been pretty good at it, feigning calmness and serenity with the campers they lost on their own side. It made their passing easier. But this? With him? She doesn’t know if it does. He’d always been far too good at reading her, for that. “I swear it, on the Styx, that I’ll find you in Elysium.” She sounds sure of herself, that even after everything he’d done, he’d earned a hero’s afterlife. That’s what the prophecy said, after all, right? Somehow, she knows she, too, will find herself with a hero’s death. Life wouldn’t be so kind to allow her to die of old age. She’d die hard, with a sword in her hand, and anger in her heart. Luke's eyes flickered open to meet the softness of hers, of lips he wanted to taste, of skin he wanted to cover with kisses. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of mourning the future he could’ve had with this girl, if he hadn’t been so hellbent on his never ending quest for glory.

Kleos. The word feels like poison, now. Maybe it always had been.

"No —" He whispered, head shaking lightly, "I won't be in Elysium. I’ll go to Asphodel—" He choked. That's where he'd likely be, being punished for his treason. It’s the least he deserved, after everything he’d done. "— and then the Fields of Punishment. But promise me... that you will wait for me, at the River."

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, adamant. He should probably take her word for it— she’s the daughter of the god of death, after all. She had a sense for these things. “Elysium. I’m sure of it. You’ve earned it.” She promises, tone soft. She doesn’t mention how she’d never let her father live it down if anything else took place. She’d tear Hades apart herself, find his soul and bring him back, somehow. Like Orpheus and Eurydice, except she’d succeed. “Regardless— it doesn’t matter. I’ll always find you. No matter where you are, I’ll find you. I swear it.”

He laughed, and it was a sad one. He was so weak, so very weak, his eyes flickering once more, his hand squeezing hers as tightly as he could, wanting to burn her imprint into his flesh. "You are so stubborn, you know that? You always have been," he whispered. Images flash through his mind against his will— her face, always her face. When she’d learned of his betrayal, then later when he’d attempted to sway her to his side. When they would train together in the arena— camp’s two best swordsmen. When she’d have nightmares, constant images of the dead trying to use her, both for her powers and as revenge on her father, who they felt claimed them from the mortal plane far too soon, to crawl their way back to the world of the living, and how, terrified of closing her eyes again, she’d crawl into his bed with him, the only place she felt safe enough to fall back asleep. When she’d kissed him for the first time, on her seventeenth birthday. Because ‘most demigods don’t get to make it to seventeen, so I’m making seventeen count’, as she’d put it. Then, later that night, after his surprise wore off, when he had kissed her. It pains him to think about how he’d only been manipulating her, back then. Had he loved her? Sure, but his mission always seemed more important at the time. He’d do it for them, he’d told himself. The gods would regret every unclaimed child, and every claimed child resigned to the Hermes cabin because they weren’t born with the luxury of having a parent that had a throne on Olympus, one of the big twelve. For kids like Y/N. His hand slipped from hers, and he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. Instead, he'd watch her, as if he could lock her into his memory. "Will you... will you stay here with me, until my life..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

“Until the very end.” She promises softly, her voice cracking with the effort not to cry. She’d almost given up on trying to staunch the bleeding, one hand resting on his face, brushing languidly, lovingly, over his cheek, just around the edge of his scar. She’s not sure what possessed her in that moment, as she leans down, placing a soft, chaste, yet romantic kiss to his lips. After all, he’d been her first kiss, it felt fitting that she would also be his last. As she pulls away, she whispers against his lips, “I love you, Luke Castellan.”

He was breathless, the kiss like a dagger to the chest, biting deeper than the blade that will end up taking his life. In a matter of minutes, his heartbeat would skip its last beat, and her face will be the last he sees, the last thought on his mind. His hand came up to the back of her neck, holding her as he whispered in return, "... I love you too." He managed only that, before his heart failed him. He was gone, and he didn't make a sound.

Gone with a whimper, not a bang.

The blood that fell from his wound was now staining the pristine marble flooring beneath them, the last remnants of life and love, of devotion and betrayal. Y/N hoped that it would stain forever, a constant reminder of his sacrifice.

Y/N felt his final breath fan across her face, and she knew he was gone. Her eyes remained closed, steady tears rolling down her face, their foreheads pressed together. She can feel him growing cold as she sobs. “No,” She whimpers, his hands, now gone limp, still in hers. “No, please no—“ Vaguely, she’s aware of the rumbling of the ground under her feet, a telltale sign of her powers coming out to play, a throng of undead soldiers aching to burst past the earth’s mantle, to await her command. Her face screws up into an expression of anguish, though she forces the feeling down, knowing that if she didn’t reel in her own emotion, her legion of death wouldn’t hesitate to grab every demigod in her vicinity and drag them into the earth, to take their place in the afterlife. Maybe they’d take her, too. Maybe she hoped they would.

The thing about being the daughter of death, was that when a soul left a body and you were near enough to it, you could feel them leaving the mortal plane, accompanied by her father to the underworld. She could feel it, feel him, Luke’s soul leaving his body. She always did, with the campers they lost during the war, but this one hits too close to home. It’s a startling, chilling, terrifying feeling, that only makes her sob harder, knowing the boy she loved was now in her father’s hands, and out of her own. This was always the hardest part. “Take care of him for me, pops,” she whispers, voice trembling, knowing her father was with Luke’s soul right now, the pair watching over her mourning over Luke’s body. As that realization passes over her, she sits up straight, a ragged scream of mourning threatening to tear her vocal cords apart. In the background, she’s vaguely aware of the voice of Percy Jackson speaking,

“We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes.”

Notes: and with that, we’re done. This was super fun! I feel like I could go on forever about Luke x Grim Reader (I’m calling them deadwings/grimwings), and if there’s enough of a demand, I just might. Feedback is obviously appreciated !! Drink some water, hug a friend, and don’t forget to pirate PJO 🫶

#JAZZ HANDDSS #happy Friday have some soul shattering angst #and for my next trick I’ll disappear into obscurity never to be heard from again #jk #unless???#pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan angst #luke castellan x you #PJO angst #x reader #PJO imagine

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