The Path Of Glory (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

76. Good-Byes

The satyrs fell over themselves, nodding and bowing. "Oh, yes, very much, sire!"

"Well, I did not miss this place!" Dionysus snapped. "I bear bad news, my friends. Evil news. The minor gods are changing sides. Morpheus has gone over to the enemy. Hecate, Janus, and Nemesis, as well. Zeus knows how many more." Thunder rumbled in the distance. "Strike that," Dionysus said. "Even Zeus doesn't know. Now, I want to hear Grover's story. Again, from the top."

"But, my Lord," Silenus protested. "It's just nonsense!"

Dionysus's eyes flared with purple fire. "I have just learned that my son Castor is dead, Silenus. I am not in a good mood. You would do well to humor me."

Silenus gulped, and waved at Grover to start again.

When Grover was done, Mr. D nodded. "It sounds like just the sort of thing Pan would do. Grover is right. The search is tiresome. You must start thinking for yourselves." He turned to a satyr. "Bring me some peeled grapes, right away!"

"Yes, sire!" The satyr scampered off.

"We must exile the traitor!" Silenus insisted.

"I say no," Dionysus countered. "That is my vote."

"I vote no as well," Chiron put in.

Silenus set his jaw stubbornly. "All in favor of the exile?"

He and the two other old satyrs raised their hands.

"Three to two," Silenus said.

"Ah, yes," Dionysus said. "But unfortunately for you, a god's vote counts twice. And as I voted against, we are tied."

Silenus stood, indignant. "This is an outrage! The council cannot stand at an impasse."

"Then let it be dissolved!" Mr. D said. "I don't care."

Silenus bowed stiffly, along with his two friends, and they left the grove. About twenty satyrs went with them. The rest stood around, murmuring uncomfortably.

"Don't worry," Grover told them. "We don't need a council to tell us what to do. We can figure it out ourselves."

He told them again the words of Pan—how they must save the wild a little at a time. He started dividing the satyrs into groups—which ones would go to the national parks, which one would search out the last wild places, which ones would defend the parks in big cities.

"Well," Ethan said to Y/N, "we've got ourselves a prophet, now."

Later that afternoon, Y/N and Ethan were on duty in the Big House, giving nectar and ambrosia to the wounded. It was not a pleasant sight, far from it. The less injured had only bruises or sprains, but the others. . . . They all had broken bones and deep cuts across their body. Three campers had been maimed: a daughter of Aphrodite missed a thumb and a son of Hermes two fingers; a son of Hephaestus had lost one of his hands.

As Y/N wiped the sweat off the forehead of a son of Demeter, Ethan tapped him on the shoulder. "I think someone wants to talk to you," he said.

Y/N turned around. Annabeth stood in the doorway, pretending not to look at him.

"Go ahead," Ethan said, pushing him aside and taking his place beside Demeter's son.

He had a smile on his face, and Y/N knew Ethan was making fun of him. But he didn't really care at that moment. He wished he was back in the middle of the Sea of Monsters, thrown through the air by the Great Drakon, rather than going to talk to Annabeth.

He went to join her at the door.

"Uh, look—" he began.

"Not here," she said.