The Unknown Destiny

| Chapter 4 || The Ugly Truth |

Chapter Four

The Ugly Truth

*Third Person Point of View*

Hospitals aren't typically nice. Their bleached walls leave anyone blinded, and the stench of cleaning solution leaves an unpleasant burn in the nose.

Luckily for Percy, this wasn't the case. He was situated in the finest room of Apollo's medical wing, with baby-blue stained walls and an ocean breeze scent wafting from the diffuser. His bed - the only one in the room - was a marshmallow. It had double the padding, double the pillows, and double the blankets than any bed would ever need.

Beside him, a single chair stood, lonely at his bedside. It was the only other piece of furniture in the room that was designed to hold a person, as the rest were dressers of draws and a mess of complicated medical equipment.

Despite being the only piece of upholstery in the room - or maybe because of it - the chair was almost always occupied. Artemis, the Greek goddess of the moon and the wild, was usually the one occupying said chair. Why? Because Perseus was her guardian and the only reason he was in Apollo's medical wing, in his fancy, private, room, was because he had been doing his job: protecting her.

She wasn't visiting him out of guilt, though. No. That most certainly wasn't the case. She didn't feel as if his condition was in some backward way, her fault because she knew that Percy wouldn't want her to think that. She would, instead, honour his sacrifice for her.

And seeing as she was there, almost every minute of every day, she needed something to do. Sometimes, she'd read a book - or read a book to him. Other times, she would just sit in silence, her hand resting gently on his, waiting for a sign. A twitch. When she wasn't doing either of those, she would talk to him. Just talk. Often it was about random things. The weather. The rebuilding of the city. The movements of her chariot across the sky - "It will be a full moon soon!" - or something. It didn't really matter.

One day, however, it was exceptionally important.

It was only a few days after Percy had been in the hospital, and she had visited him every day of that week, except one - when she had to go out and search for the gods' missing items, and then report back to the other gods during an impromptu council meeting, where hence she discovered that not only was her guardian incapacitated, all of them were acting strangely, and two were already missing.

And so, the next morning she entered the room with a stormy cloud above her head, bringing a promise of dread and sullen silence. As soon as she saw Percy, she tried for a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. The pain and frustration held with a firm, two-handed grasp on her spirit, and absolutely refused to let go.

Once she rested herself in the comfortable armchair, after quickly adjusting the pillows, she reached forward, grasping Percy's hand in her own and interlacing their fingers.

She held his right hand for his left was but a stub, right below the wrist. It was wrapped thickly in gauze, but the once starch bandages were speckled burgundy with blood.

"Hello, Percy."

She said this every day. It was simple, and all around easy to say to him. It was almost like she was having a conversation with him, despite the fact that she knew he wouldn't answer back. She preferred to pretend that he did.

"I'm well, thank you. I hope you're getting better?"

She knew he was. Apollo said so himself: Percy's wounds were almost completely healed. There were no infections and the skin was healing back together at an exponential rate. Artemis was pleased to hear that as soon as Percy was awake, they'd be able to start fitting him for a prosthetic with Hephaestus.