𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩

Chapter X I V

14
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Piracy & Warfare

  Cyrus admitted it, jumping off the lifeboat to help (y/n) when he landed back wasn't the best idea he'd had in a while.

  His necklace was intact, at least, so he didn't need to worry about monsters attacking more than usual. Or, maybe he did. The Sea of Monsters was unexplored territory.

  He'd found his friend knocked out, his unconscious body deep in the water, with a wounded spot on the side of his head leaking blood, letting out weak air bubbles so slowly Cyrus was afraid he'd already gone and met his stepdad.

  "Come on," he scoffed, rushing to get to the boy and take him to surface.

  The heavy waves from Charybdis wouldn't bother Cyrus, specially at the distance they were, but they would certainly cause trouble for (y/n). Cyrus had to swim for hours on end, carrying the boy with him just to find an island.

  For those painful hours, Cyrus constantly worried he was carrying a body, not a living person. Making extra weight on him, he debated several times letting (y/n) go, but he wouldn't be able to deal with himself after. What a heck of a friend, leaving him to simply drown.

  As soon as Cyrus climbed on the beach, he rested (y/n)'s still unconscious body on the sand. Tears welled in Cyrus's eyelids heavily as he held the boy's head, the water seemingly vaporizing off the boy as the sobbing began.

  "Please, wake up," Cyrus begged. "Don't be dead, I know ye'r stronger than that, lad. Wake up... Wake up... Wake up..."

  Cyrus was too busy crying to count how many times he begged for (y/n) to wake up, or prayed to all the gods, Greek, Roman, or just any who'd hear his pleas, but he'd undoubtedly repeated them way too many times.

  He held the prince of the underworld in his lap like he'd do to a stray cat or a baby, one hand resting on his bleeding forehead as Cyrus sniffled.

  "Don't take him from me... Not now. I just got back," Cyrus shook his head. "Please, Lord Hades, don't let him die."

  Finally, the crying ceased at the sound of coughing.

  Cyrus's eyes widened and he quickly looked down at (y/n). The boy spat out sea water onto the sand, before his eyes fluttered open, weak and tired, yet holding the same power they always did.

  "Oh, thank Neptune!" Cyrus sighed, chuckling in glee. "Yer' awake!"

  "Ugh, that's all I am, really," (y/n) winced. "I feel like I've been dipped in acid."

  "Aye, ye' probably should feel like that, lad. Pretty nasty hit ye' got on yer' head."

  (y/n) tried getting up, then seemed to finally notice his position. His face flushed, and that was most definitely not caused by the blood loss. He rushed to stand, brushing himself off quickly.

  "Where are we...?" he muttered.

  Cyrus stood, towering over the 9 year old besides him, before he looked back at the island they were currently stranded in. Trees grew insane heights and fruits hung from branches, large enough to to crush them both if one fell from their places.

  "What animal even eats that?" (y/n) mumbled.

  Cyrus looked back at him, sighing in relief to see a friendly face finally awake. He noted the scars running down (y/n)'s features, thin and almost invisible slashes across this otherwise smooth face. One ran from the bridge of his nose and to his earlobe, crossing his whole cheek, and the one above it, slashed a cut in his eyebrow, matching the lower one in thickness. Annabeth told Cyrus not to talk about it, so Cyrus never mentioned the scars when (y/n) was present, but the girl did inform him that he'd gotten the scars on his first day at camp, after fighting a huge snake creature, the venom creating scars that should've been long gone, before Annabeth found him and carried him to the Big House.