Beauty/Tragedy | Percy Jackson

No Small Alliance

The sun drops luridly into the west;
darkness has raised her arms to draw him down
before the time, not waiting as of wont
till he has come to her behind the sea;
and the smooth waves grow sullen in the gloom
and wear their threatening purple; more and more
the plain of waters sways and seems to rise
convexly from its level of the shores;
and low dull thunder rolls along the beach:
there will be storm at last, storm, glorious storm...

Augusta Webster, 'Circe'

Percy Jackson is a very good liar. Not an accomplishment to be proud of but in a demigod's life, lies could save lives.

It has been almost six months since Andras had found him buried in sand near the beach. It had been almost five months since the time everyone in the village knew him by his name and knew one fact with it, "I don't remember much. I- I was in a ship with my- my mother and then... I was here."

Lies and lies.

The people often gave him looks of sympathy and pity. Normally, Percy felt irate when treated such way, but the people of Aristo was just so kind. They had prayed for him.

The lady had said that she cannot comprehend the pain it must bring him to be unable to remember the names of his loved ones, his family. She prayed that one day the forgetful child could remember his mother's name.

Percy had almost cried. Guilt stabbed him. Lies and lies. Important lies. Lies he will tell till the day he died.

If his mother were here, she would understand. He could feel her blessing and she would hug him, muttering words of her support. She would tell him to be safe. Nothing else would matter to her in the end, just his well-being and safety.

He would remember his home. (With every moon, it was getting difficult for him to recall their faces. It was all a blur of smiles and comfort. The pain did not matter now, he was almost always living in nostalgia.)

"Where do you come from?" Kallikrates asked, he turned to look at him. They sat next to each other on a high branch of a tree, doing nothing. Percy stared at a distance ahead of them, he could only sense the sea, not see it.

"I do not remember." Lies and lies. "The sea, I think." (Would his father recognize him? Or would he throw him out of his domain?)

Kallikrates was secretive, Percy didn't hold that against him, but he had noticed that he did not talk about his family. All he told him the second day of their meeting was his name, "I never introduced myself. I am Kallikrates. My mother calls me Kallias."

Nothing about his family was mentioned again.

He was also trustworthy. He told no one that Percy was a demigod, he promised. Also, he did not force him to talk about his godly parent. He probably thought that Percy didn't know himself and assumed him a son of naidid.

They spent their days together, sometimes just to meet and then run their ways home, sometimes they spent hours together and talked about everything to nothing. Percy was so happy that he made a friend. Kallias was of a genuine heart of gold, he reminded him of his mother.

Days turned into months, Percy witnessed the celebration of the crown prince's birthday again and thought, he knew the birthdate of the prince but not his friend. He would remember to ask Kallias the next day.

This year, his village had sent gifts for the royal family. He made a necklace with an abalone shell; he couldn't think of anything much better.

That night, the village celebrated, and he forgot the lies he had told. Aristo was beginning to feel familiar.