"We are not our namesakes. We will never be more or less than what we are now, and I have loved you without regret. If we die, haunt me so your face is the last I see."
[ PERCY JACKSON x FEMALE OC ]
[ PERCY JACKSON SERIES ]
cover by @human...
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0004. | WHAT A MIGHTY ARMY FOUR CHILDREN CAN MAKE
Octavia was having terrible dreams again.
She had them often, almost every other night. They were so frequent to her that they began to repeat themselves a few years ago. She knew the script and scenery better than the back of her own hand. They were always the same.
She was stood high on the golden walls of a fortress. It was a castle with beautiful windows and silk bedsheets, plates of cheese and fruit that was drizzled with honey. Cups of wine were scattered around, as were pitchers of ale, rancid smelling drinks and strong too, not properly sweetened. At night, the sun would set through the window of her chamber and cast the room in golden light, turning her skin to bronze and her hair to glitter.
It was the city of Troy that she dreamed of at night.
She would watch from her window the sea waves lulling in and out with the tides, and she would feel peace. She would ignore the boats that filled the blue sea to the horizon, the thousand ships Agamemnon set sail in Helen's name, and she would ignore the stains of blood on the trampled grass by the base of the city's impenetrable walls. She ignored the screams and the cries and the weeping, and focused on the lulling sea waves and the plates of honeyed fruits and her linen bedsheets. She focused on the sweet to forget the horror.
She was blonde in her dreams, like she was before her quest, but her face looked older. The mirrors were hardly accurate though, mostly smoothed, polished pieces of silver to cast her reflection. She was often dressed in silks and linens of gorgeous colours, always wearing blue when the man would come to see her. He called her Eléni. It meant Helen. She called him agápi mou, and though she had named him her love, she truly knew him to be Paris.
Paris was a beautiful man, with dark hair and green eyes, and golden skin, tanned from years in the sun in his youth, his outcast by the name Alexander he had served in penance for his prophecy—that he would be the downfall of Troy.
Paris always brought her gifts, fruits, foods, clothes, silks, jewellery. She liked him for that, she supposed, but whenever she awoke, she kept none of what she had been gifted. She knew she was supposed to feel love for him, and although she had known him in her dreams all her life, she found him to be more of a friend. To her, Paris was a long lost companion that she wished to see again. He did not frighten her and he did not indulge her. He was a comfort when the screaming of battle began every morning, and a comfort when Menelaus bellowed at the walls; "Eléni!"
After finding out from Annabeth that dreams of that nature and that repetition weren't normal, she encouraged Octavia to seek help from Mr D.
At first, he had actually helped which was surprising to everyone who knew (though Octavia, Annabeth, Luke, Grover, Chiron, and Ana had been quite a small bunch), but Annabeth heard he and Chiron muttering something about Zeus' interference once. If Zeus was ordering Mr D to help her, then that would have explained his sudden altruism. But after the first four months of Octavia telling him the details of every dream she could recollect, Mr D had instructed her to write her dreams down in a notebook and only to come to him if she dreamt of something new. It had been three years of nothing new.
