✺ A CHANGING TIDE ✺
"Hello?" (Y/N) asks, poking her head into the hallway of cabins below deck. She creeps along quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone who may be resting.
Silence meets her, the emptiness of the hallway staring back without response. She frowns slightly, focusing her hearing on the cabin doors—sure enough, steady breathing patterns make themselves known, accompanied by the gentle shifting of bed frames and mattresses as her friends undoubtedly catch up on rest.
Lightly gnawing on her lower lip, she steps forward, the pressure of her foot prompting a soft creak in the metal floor. She cringes, the sound infinitely loud in such a quiet expanse of space.
One set of breathing hitches, and (Y/N) tilts her head to the left, staring at the third door down the hall. She waits, her foot poised on its toes, as the person in that room seems to do the same.
Grover would complain about the noise, flip off the door, and turn back to go to sleep.
Clarisse would yank the door open and give a piece of her mind to whomever the culprit was.
Tyson would probably keep sleeping without a clue.
Annabeth would instantly get up, grab a weapon, and prepare for when her victim was to pass by.
But Percy just waits for (Y/N) to walk past, to shut herself into a room and sit with the memories of everything that they'd all been through; she wouldn't sleep, she wouldn't eat, she would just wait, and wait, and wait until the others were ready to confront what had happened.
He knows her well enough to understand how she would approach it all. And he hurts deeply enough to make her hope without resolution that he'll greet her or welcome her or give her any indication that he knows she's arrived.
All he does is stare at his door, watching with tired eyes and a choked throat and a twisting heart.
And she does exactly what he wants her to, keeping her footfalls quieter before walking into an empty room and locking herself away.
(Y/N) scrunches her nose at the room's humidity, its small porthole window slightly dislodged as condensation gathers on the wall around it. An idea strikes her when she looks at her dirtied skin, and her eyes flit to the backpack she'd left behind before docking on the island. Rummaging through her first aid kit, she fishes a small roll of gauze out, ripping off a piece and holding it up to the window.
Her eyes glimmer with a sheen of light as the mist from outside sucks itself into the gauze, and she closes the window once satisfied with its absorption. She uses the dampened fabric to scrub at the dried blood and ichor that cling to her forearms and sternum. This attempt at cleaning herself makes little progress, but the results are satisfactory enough to relieve most of her discomfort. She changes into a fresh pair of clothes, tossing her ripped and bloodied ones aside (she makes plans to burn them later), before running her fingers through most of the tangles in her now-shorter hair.
Giving up on presentability, she crawls onto the bed, shifting with discomfort at the stiffness of the mattress underneath her. Sighing, she lies there, keeping her eyes trained on the ceiling and her ears on the hallway.
And she waits.
— x —
"So, what exactly . . . how did you . . . you know, how did you come back?"
Annabeth's words are reserved, low and hesitant, as she barely looks at her best friend. Fiddling with her hands, she keeps her attention on them while awaiting an answer.
(Y/N) picks at her left palm, her gut sinking at Annabeth's averted eyes. She looks at the others—Percy, who leans back against the deck rail, his eyes trained on the waves; Clarisse, her arms crossed and jaw ticking; Grover, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets as he stands beside Percy; and Tyson, who sits cross-legged on the deck floor—all of whom seem unsure about how to act around her. Annabeth stands on the other side of Grover, the satyr occasionally glancing her way with concern. (Y/N) sighs, and she moves to sit on a ladder rung that leads to the upper deck, facing them all.
"I think it's best," she begins, thinking back, "if I start by saying that before we left, I got my own prophecy."
Percy's head whips to her, his eyes wide.
"Basically, it said that I—well, Hope, if you wanna be specific about it—needed to bear a sacrifice." (Y/N) refrains from wincing at the pained look that shoots across Annabeth's face. "That, and that I needed to fall to join together who I now know are the eldest gods. Percy's prophecy said that their powers needed to combine. It turns out that they needed to combine . . . in me. So instead of going to the Underworld and receiving judgement, I was taken to Olympus to be resurrected. As part of it, each of the six gave some of their blood—ichor, whatever—to transfer their abilities to me. They didn't want to break their oath and intervene, even though I asked them to."
Annabeth shifts on her feet, finally meeting (Y/N)'s gaze. "So you didn't know what they wanted."
"No."
"But you knew you would die."
(Y/N) winces at the betrayal on Annabeth's face, the daughter of Athena not even bothering to mask her hurt. Sighing, she nods. "I did."
"And you didn't tell us."
"No. I didn't."
It is Grover who speaks up next: "Why?" he asks, his shoulders slumped.
(Y/N) swallows thickly, hugging her arms to herself. "I didn't want it to be real," she admits, her words meek and full of sorrow. "I wanted to avoid it for as long as possible. And then . . . when I got the prophecy, I—"
"You knew before then?" Percy interrupts, his furious words sending shards of ice through the girl's heart.
"I had a dream," she explains, rubbing her biceps, "and I thought that I could ignore it after what happened with the Minotaur. Things were so similar, and I figured that that was what my foresight was telling me. But then I spoke to the Oracle, and I kept having that dream, and I didn't want to worry anyone any more than I had to. I wanted to help you guys. And even if that cost me my life, I wouldn't let it hold me back. I don't think I would even have a choice in the matter. The Fates wanted me to be in that cave at that time, so I would have ended up there anyway. I thought it was better that I got to enjoy the last moments of my time with you all . . . with you. I didn't want you worrying about when I would actually go and then make you risk your safety for me."
Grover shakes his head, his eyes sunken. "We would have done that anyway," he says, leaning back against the rail. "That's what we do for the people we love."
(Y/N) nods, her heart twisting. "I know. And I'm so, so sorry." She takes a deep breath, sniffling quietly as she fights her desired tears. "I fucked up this time. I understand that. And it's no excuse, and I'm not trying to defend myself, but I truly did believe at the time that I was sparing you all from any pain. I had faith that you would get the Fleece. And then, my death wouldn't be an issue; you could have brought me back. I just didn't expect everything else to happen the way that it did. That's no justification, though. You do not have to forgive me. But I'll be better in the future, I swear."
Annabeth's face crumples slightly, but she smiles. "Thank you." Grover nods, supporting her words.
Percy just looks away again.
Clarisse rubs her temple, and (Y/N)'s eyes flit to her. "How did, um . . ." the daughter of Ares begins, her brow slightly furrowed, "how did that dagger become cursed, anyway?"
Grover points at Clarisse, following, "Yeah, I was wondering the same thing."
"Luke gave me that dagger," (Y/N) starts, her arms dropping as she begins her fidgeting again, "when we were on the yacht. I had lied to him then, saying that I had always wanted to overthrow the gods but I'd planned to do it a different way. He offered for us to work together, and when I pretended to accept, he essentially gave it as a peace offering, promising to protect and fight by me. He broke that promise by letting me get hurt. And when I took it, I . . . I also made a promise. To protect you all, no matter the cost."
"You did that, though," Percy says, his words closed off. Distant.
He can't even look at her.
"Not well enough." (Y/N) keeps her focus on him, hoping to anything that he'll meet her eye. He doesn't, and her gut sinks. "I escaped my bonds, and that meant Luke didn't have to keep his oath of leaving you alone. I died, and you were still in danger. I saw what they were doing to you. Hecate told me what would happen if I took too long to agree to their plan. You all were about to be killed."
"But we weren't," Tyson says, his eye widened innocently as he looks up at her. "We're okay because of you."
(Y/N) chuckles slightly, offering the Cyclops a tiny smile. "Thanks, Tyson. But it doesn't change the fact that my promise was still as good as broken."
Percy stiffens.
"We're all gonna make it out of here alive. We're all gonna be fine. Right?"
(Y/N) smiles, nodding. "Yeah. Promise."
— x —
Annabeth crosses her legs, prodding at the mattress of her bed and wrinkling her nose with disapproval. "At least the Confederates had bad sleeping arrangements," she mumbles, earning a chuckle from (Y/N), who shuts the door to the room behind her.
The daughter of Persephone sits on the floor, her legs stretched out in front of her. "So," she starts, resting her back against the wall, "what was it you wanted to talk about?"
Annabeth leans forward slightly, resting her forearms on her knees. She chews her lip in consideration before asking, "What happened to the others?"
(Y/N)'s eyebrow twitches with slight intrigue, but she doesn't think to ask about her friend's intense interest. "I basically made all of them promise against . . . redoing what they did. Swearing allegiance to Kronos, trying to overthrow the gods, all that jazz. And then I let them go."
Annabeth nods, seemingly lost in thought. "It's just that . . . some of them were our friends. Some of them lived at Camp Half-Blood. What will they do now?"
(Y/N) sighs, pulling one of her legs up to rest bent in front of her, and she rests her chin on her knee. "I don't know. That's up to them. Their godly parents might pay a visit soon and sort it out."
Annabeth's eyes go wide. "Our parents can visit us now?"
Snapping in realization, (Y/N) responds, "That's right, I didn't bring that up earlier. Shit. It was one of the things I took care of after Kronos's army. I laid down a few ground rules, and adjustments can be made as time passes. We'll figure it out somehow." Mumbling, she adds as a side note, "I need to let the others know that, too."
The daughter of Athena smiles. Grabbing one of her pillows, she hugs it to her chest and presses her cheek to it in comfort. "That'll be nice."
"I hope so," (Y/N) agrees, her lips turning up fondly at her friend's joy.
Annabeth seems to tense, and she pulls her face from the pillow. "What about Evander?" she asks, her eyes suddenly flooded with emotion. Her voice trembles, accompanied by faint quivers in her figure. "He was the one you said things wouldn't be pretty for, right? You didn't want us to see you when you dealt with him, did you?" Terror fills the question that she asks, her demeanor shockingly different from moments before. "What did you do?"
The look in Annabeth's grey eyes is the same one she holds when facing a monster. Fearful, uncertain, yet determined to still do what is necessary. The look that the angels undoubtedly hold when they face a great and terrible evil.
Jaw tightening, (Y/N) tilts her head. Lifting her chin from her knee, she holds Annabeth's gaze with determination and asks, "Are you afraid, Annabeth?"
The blonde swallows thickly, her arms squeezing the pillow with such force that it might burst. "The gods are brutal beyond measure when they want to be. How am I supposed to know what that power is doing to you?"
"That's a long way of saying 'yes'." The daughter of Persephone leans forward, her eyes glinting with a challenge to hide the true hurt that aches inside of her. "What do you think I did?"
"I don't know," Annabeth breathes, her lower lip quivering. "Do I want to?"
(Y/N)'s lips curl with a bitter smirk, a humorless chuckle escaping her throat. "You think I killed him."
"Did you?"
"No."
"Did you torture him?"
"Not physically."
Annabeth grits her teeth, leaning back slightly. Her eyes swirl with fear, and (Y/N) lets out a quiet scoff.
"I healed his wounds," she says, and Annabeth fails to hide her surprise as she blinks. "And then I asked him for answers about what he'd taunted me with when Chris was beating me. He refused. Then I threatened him. I promised him torture and pain and misery greater and more eternal than he probably knew was possible. And then I got my answers."
Annabeth furrows her brow, now intrigued. "What did he say?"
The gods killed your father, (Y/N).
(Y/N)'s jaw ticks with restraint as she answers, "A lie."
"And then?"
"And then I let him go."
Her hold on the pillow loosening, Annabeth does a double-take. "Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"Why? After everything he did?"
(Y/N) quirks a brow. "Would you rather I have let him die?"
"I'm just curious about your thought process."
Sighing, (Y/N) complies: "He felt his life had no meaning. He was willing to tell me anything that even seemed like a lie so that I would put him out of his misery. I felt he deserved to live without thought of overthrowing the gods. I think that with a different type of life goal, he'll get better—understand that life is actually worth it. I don't know. But I didn't think it was right to kill him for a misguided decision when Luke already died for the same reason. If I got another chance, even with all my mistakes, I at least needed to give him his own."
Annabeth tilts her head, mouth slightly agape. "Huh." Leaning forward, she asks, "How come you trust him? What's stopping him from just doing it all over again?"
(Y/N) taps at her sternum, chuckling slightly. "I'm monitoring. Some of my power's in his system; I left it there after I healed him. Nothing he can use, but it'll let me know if he has any major desires for anarchy and war. He still hates the gods, but I don't think that he'll act on it anymore."
Annabeth again furrows her eyebrows. "You forgive him."
It isn't a question, but (Y/N) nods all the same. "I do."
"He killed you."
"He did."
"And you forgive him."
"That's right."
"Why?"
A sad smile passes over the daughter of Persephone's lips, and she hugs her knee to her chest as she answers:
"Because if I don't, I doubt I'm any better than the rest of them."
— x —
"Clarisse?" (Y/N) asks, knocking on one of the doors, "You in here?"
"Yep."
The daughter of Ares says nothing further, and (Y/N) purses her lips, her hand hovering over the handle. She waits a while longer before speaking again: "Can I come in?"
"Sure."
Clarisse lies on her bed, eyes closed as her hands rest folded on her stomach. Some of her hair obscures parts of her face, the locks tangled and messy, but the girl doesn't seem to mind. A few strands shoot upward when she lets out a deep exhale, not bothering to look at (Y/N) as she enters. "What's up?" she asks, the daughter of Persephone shutting the door quietly behind her.
"I forgot to say, earlier, that I talked to the gods, and they've agreed to give up on the whole . . . ignoring us . . . thing. Figured you should know."
"Thanks," Clarisse mumbles, her voice silenced by the hair over her face.
(Y/N)'s gaze lowers to the girl's scraped up hands, her knuckles bruised and scabbed over. "I can heal that for you," she offers, voice lowering, "if you want."
Sighing, Clarisse brushes her hair from her face and turns her head, giving Persephone's daughter a tired smile. "I'm okay. Thanks, though."
(Y/N) hesitates, but nods, voicing a quiet farewell before leaving the room. She knew all too well the need for the pain, the reminder it served. The scars on her own knuckles tingle slightly, and she flexes her fingers to loosen the joints.
Moving to Tyson's room, she knocks, barely having to wait before the door is pulled open by a beaming Cyclops.
"Hi, (Y/N)!" Tyson greets, and the girl can't help but smile.
"Hey, Tyson." Her focus passes over his shoulder, where a green-eyed boy suddenly averts his gaze. Her smile drops as Percy refuses to look at her.
Again.
"What's going on?" Tyson asks, stepping further into his room and gesturing for (Y/N) to enter.
Percy seems to stiffen at the very idea.
Forcing a smile, (Y/N) stays put. "It's just a quick thing." Her eyes repeatedly flicker to Percy as she repeats what she told Clarisse, watching the demeanor of Poseidon's sons change instantly. Percy turns his head, his eyes slightly wide in amazement, as the Cyclops brightens with joy.
"I'll get to meet him?" Tyson breathes, and (Y/N) nods. Without hesitation, he wraps her in a hug, his grip so strong that the air escapes her lungs. Her laughter somewhat strained, she pats him on the back, and he pulls away with a huge grin. "Thank you."
"It's the least you all deserve." (Y/N) glances at Percy again, hoping that he'll give her some form of proper attention, but it fails to surprise her when he lowers his head. Easily hiding the lump in her throat, the sinking of her stomach, she gives Tyson a smile. "I'll catch you later."
"Bye, (Y/N)," Tyson offers a little wave, and (Y/N) responds with her two-fingered salute before she walks away.
The cabin door closes as she makes her way down the hall.
Instantly, she goes weak.
Her feet begin to stumble as she enters her room, and she grabs an edge of the bedframe, squeezing her eyes shut. Her stomach churns, twisting with sadness and strain and some unknown otherness. The pit of her neck begins to ache, a thin bolt of pain snaking down into her torso and cutting through her heart.
Head spinning, vision blurring, she coughs, clutching the fabric of her shirt so intensely that her entire arm begins to shake. The rocking of the waves beneath her feet worsens the unease in her stomach, and she fights to even out her breathing and ward off the nausea.
Weakness seeps into every tendon of her body, her head lightening without reprieve.
And then it leaves.
The pain eases. The weakness fades. She loosens in relief.
Fatigue takes over, and (Y/N) crawls into her bed, clutching a pillow to her stomach and closing her eyes.
The welcomed touch of Morpheus soothes the swirling illness within her, easing her away into the world of sleep.
— x —
(Y/N) ducks under a low-lying tree branch, pulling it aside for the other five campers to pass after her. "We're not too far, now," she says, releasing the branch after Percy is free from its swinging distance. Having set himself at the back of their trekking party, he avoids her eye, as (Y/N) is sure is part of his efforts to keep as far away from her as possible. She sighs, quiet enough that only she can hear, but she sets aside her feelings while picking up her pace to again lead the group.
"How do you even know where we are?" Tyson asks, his eye wide with amazement as she points out the direction they need to go in next.
(Y/N) doesn't turn back, although she continuously looks at various places around to guarantee their safety, as she responds: "Well, the benefit of growing up at camp is that you get pretty familiar with the surrounding areas." With ease, she swings over a fallen log, her feet landing quietly on the leaves that blanket the forest floor. "But I'm also pretty damn good at tracking. See, here?"—she crouches to the ground, pointing out a patch of bare dirt accented by a sloping dip, the end closest to her mounded above the ground's level.
"This is an animal track. Here are the hooves, and by the way it's shaped, with this bit that's sort of a skid mark, you can tell that it was running." She lifts her arm, pointing ahead of her as Tyson squints to follow where her finger leads. "It went that way. There's that patch of brambles, you see? It's broken outward, and if you look even closer, I'm sure you'd find a bit of fur on the thorns, too. That means that we're in hunter territory."
Brushing her hands off on her jeans, she rises from her crouch and gestures for the others to continue walking with her. "But basically," she says, continuing to look at all angles in front of her, "if you notice the little details, you can piece together the big picture. Get an idea of everything that happened at a particular place, but right now, it's different. We're trying to find our way back to somewhere, so you have to look for the shifts in vegetation because of light displacement. You have to look for the tracks of animals or monsters that like to hang out around the barrier, along with signs of people who take on guard duty. Landmarks are nice to know, too, if you've been out far enough. Luckily," she pauses, holding up a hand for the others to stop, and her voice lowers as she finishes her thought, "I have."
Tyson, Clarisse (the Fleece slung over her shoulder), Annabeth, and Grover all look around them with concern as (Y/N) stays put, her head tilting slightly. Percy, at the end of their line, readies Riptide when the hair on his neck stands up, and (Y/N) shakes her head when he prepares to let his sword form in full.
She looks to her left, and the others follow her gaze, where a large coyote stares back at them with gleaming yellow eyes.
"Oh, fuck," Grover mutters, inching away in the hopes of hiding his scent.
Hackles raised, it snarls, teeth bared just enough for the campers to see them glint. (Y/N) keeps eye contact with it, ensuring that her voice is steady and low as she says, "It's scared of us, so it won't hurt you. Keep going straight. Be calm, but quick, and stop when you no longer see me. Grover, you start it off."
With a quiet whimper escaping him, Grover leads the way, repeatedly looking back as (Y/N) stills under the coyote's stare. Its eyes flicker to him, tail twitching, and the satyr worriedly picks up his pace.
The daughter of Persephone holds the animal's focus, watching as it seems to relax when the threats to its territory drop in number. (Y/N) bows her head slightly, holding eye contact. "I apologize," she starts, her words smooth, "for disrupting your land."
Her irises flicker to pink, and a breeze begins to drift through the area, pushing (Y/N)'s hair towards the direction her friends walk in. The coyote perks up slightly, nose twitching as the group's scent blows past it and away from the area. It watches, tail flicking, as (Y/N) moves away in a series of side-steps, and its fur lowers as the distance between them grows.
(Y/N) turns to walk properly once the coyote trots in the opposite direction, and she breaks into a light jog to reach the others. They appear in her line of sight soon enough, and she makes her silent steps more noticeable to alert them of her presence.
"What the hell was that about?" Clarisse asks, her eyebrows furrowed.
(Y/N) again takes the lead of the group, squinting as the sun meets her vision. "That," she explains, lifting a hand to act as a visor, "was about preserving the natural patterns of wildlife. Like I said: hunter territory. This many people usually don't come out this far all at once. Our scent would scare off food and disrupt the life of the coyotes and other animals here."
"Huh." Clarisse scrunches her nose at a splinter in her forearm, pinching at it while asking, "So whereabouts are we, now?"
(Y/N) looks at the canopy of leaves, following the pattern that the sunbeams make. "Close enough. I know this treeline." She walks in a slightly more angled direction, passing over thorns and tree roots as if habitually. "That," she says, pointing to a tall oak ahead of her, "that's my archery tree. There'll be these tiny yellow mushrooms at the bottom."
The group approaches, and (Y/N) chuckles at the familiar fungi that litter the tree roots.
Annabeth looks around, her brow cinched. "So that means . . ." she chews her lip slightly before gesturing to her left. "The arch is this way!"
The campers take off in a jog to the camp entrance, the white arch a welcome sight when it pokes through the tree trunks. Grover whoops in glee and Percy smiles fondly at the sight of their home, the six's approach startling the teenager who stands in front of Thalia's pine tree.
The young boy stares, his eyes wide with disbelief, before sprinting into the camp. (Y/N) winces at the staticky light that ripples into the barrier's dome, further proof of its weaknesses. She sticks her hand through, jumping back when a burst of gold shoots outward into the camp.
Walking past the Persephone cabin, Chiron halts as the flowers that adorn its roof instantly regain their life, blooming in a warm medley of reds and oranges. "William!" he calls out, staring at the flowers with amazement.
Will rushes over, practically skidding to a stop upon seeing the flowers. He laughs, jumping with elation. "(Y/N)!" he shouts, sprinting towards the barrier. Chiron moves to follow, only for the boy who was standing guard to run up to him.
"They're back," the boy announces, and the centaur briskly moves past with a "Yes, I know."
"Will," (Y/N) breathes when he appears, stepping through the barrier fully and opening her arms to meet him as he crashes into her with a hug.
"You're alive," he whimpers, his body shaking as he squeezes her. "You're alive."
At the words, all the air in her lungs seems to escape. "What?"
"The flowers died. We didn't know what was happening." He holds her tighter, his voice barely a whisper, "I was so scared."
(Y/N) closes her eyes, holding him close and stroking his hair in the hopes of comforting the boy. "I'm here," she soothes, barely paying any mind to her friends who enter the barrier behind her. Chiron, accompanied by a flock of campers, approach them from the main fields—some, like Silena, run to greet their friends with a hug, while others just walk and peer over shoulders with interest. (Y/N) keeps holding Will, refusing to let go until he does.
This boy held so much power and responsibility, and no matter how many times he'd used it to heal her or save her life, he still sought safety and comfort in her arms. He was so young, but his reliance on her was so scarcely shown that (Y/N) hadn't ever realized just how much he cared for her until this very moment.
Percy, Annabeth, and Grover receive warm welcomes from their friends, and Tyson hangs off to the side, smiling sadly at their interactions. Silena glances at him, her brow furrowing slightly, and Clarisse follows her line of sight. Gaze softening, she whispers to the daughter of Aphrodite, whose eyes widen at the words.
Tyson starts in surprise when Silena walks over to him, a kind smile on her face. Without a word, she pulls him into a hug, squeezing briefly before letting go. "You saved my friend," she breathes, her eyes glossy. "Thank you."
Tyson stares, unsure of what to say. His eye stings and his lip wants to quiver, but he fights them, blinking quickly and giving the girl a smile. "She helped save me, too," he says, glancing at Clarisse, who watches the interaction with a soft, proud grin.
Silena sticks out her hand. "I'm Silena."
"Tyson."
"Nice to meet you."
A whinny breaks through most of the bustling conversation, and the mass of campers turn their heads to the sky, where a dark creature arcs over them to land in front of a certain daughter of Persephone. Will, now clinging to (Y/N) from the side, chuckles slightly as the Pegasus snorts in her face.
"I took care of him for you, just like you asked," the son of Apollo says, and (Y/N) rubs his arm in thanks.
'You're back,' Hesperos says, and (Y/N)'s mind tingles with welcome at his long-missed voice.
"I'm back," she says, grinning.
The Pegasus shoves his head into her shoulder, and (Y/N) stumbles slightly while attempting to hug the nuzzling creature with her one available arm. 'You told me you would die.'
Percy, next to Grover and Annabeth (the daughter of Athena currently suffers her personalized lecture from Chiron, who fully intends to move down the line), inhales sharply as he catches onto Hesperos's words. He turns to watch as (Y/N) comforts her steed, his jaw tightening while he looks away.
Grover, noticing his best friend's tense stature, nudges him gently with his elbow. "You good, Perce?"
"No," the son of Poseidon responds, his teeth gritted and muscles tight.
Grover glances at (Y/N), who talks with Hesperos and other campers who approach her in greeting, before looking back to Percy with a knowing glint in his eye. "You two had something going on between you, didn't you?" he asks, genuine curiosity lacing his words.
Percy's shoulders sag, voice weighted. "We did."
"Do you still?"
"Technically."
"So . . . what, you don't want that anymore?"
"I'm not sure, Grover," Percy says, his words slightly frustrated. Glancing around, he lowers his voice. "It hurts, that's all. After everything, I think I just need some time to think."
Luckily enough for her own sake, (Y/N) remains distracted enough with the conversations she holds that her hearing doesn't pick up Percy's words. She does notice, however, when a set of hooves hits the ground in rhythm, and (Y/N) turns her head to look at the approaching Chiron.
"You know that what you've done deserves a grounding."
(Y/N) forces a grin at Chiron's words, looking up at the centaur with hope. "But since the quest was successful you'll let it go?"
Scoffing, Chiron crosses his arms. "The quest was not yours. I'm sure that part of it initially wasn't successful. So no, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I will not let it go."
She winces. "Both names. Ouch." His head resting on her shoulder, Will snickers, and (Y/N) bumps him with her hip. "But that's fair. How badly am I grounded?"
Grinning knowingly, Chiron answers, "One month. You have cleaning duty for the stables every night. And flights are limited to once a week."
Hesperos snorts with indignation, and Will looks at the Pegasus. "I'll let you out when she can't," he offers, and Hesperos settles down. (Y/N) chuckles at the interaction, looking back to Chiron.
"I think I can keep to that."
"And no guard duty for that time, either."
"What?" (Y/N) exclaims, glancing around with slight embarrassment before lowering her voice. "You're not serious."
"I am absolutely serious."
"Chiron, that's not fair!"
"I don't care if it's unfair, it's for your safety." Chiron's jaw remains tight as (Y/N) grumbles with frustration. "I know something happened to you, and I expect an explanation from you later. So for your own well-being, until current events have had the chance to settle, you are not stepping outside of the barrier. Case closed."
Grinding her teeth, the daughter of Persephone attempts to stare the centaur down, but Chiron holds firm, staring back until she groans. "Fine," she concedes, her tense muscles relaxing when Will squeezes her in his hug.
Chiron nods with gratitude at her acceptance. "I am glad to see you well, you know," he says, and (Y/N) offers a smile.
"I know. Thank you."
"And I do expect details."
"I know that, too."
Clarisse interrupts their conversation, stepping towards them and asking, "Chiron? Shouldn't we actually put this to use?" Nudging the Golden Fleece closer, she glances towards Thalia's pine tree, and Chiron steps aside to give her way.
Conversations fall quiet as the daughter of Ares approaches the tree, campers huddling together to watch. Clarisse hesitates, looking over her shoulder to Percy, who nods in reassurance. She looks at (Y/N) next, who still holds Will close as she smiles with encouragement.
Forget-me-nots and lilies spring back to life when the Fleece touches the roots they circle, and Clarisse steps back to watch as light shoots upward through the tree trunk, rippling outward across the dome. The barrier's familiar hum of power returns to hang in the air, a gentle heartbeat of regeneration and strength. Campers cheer with glee as the camp's protection returns, and Chiron claps Clarisse on the shoulder, guiding her back to the others who envelop her with praises. Stammering, the daughter of Ares explains the joint effort, and those who surround her spread to congratulate Percy, Grover, Annabeth, (Y/N), and even Tyson, whose grin refuses to fall.
When the chaos dies, (Y/N) looks down to Will, the boy's head still on her shoulder and his arms still circled around her waist. Her brow furrowed at his determination, she asks, "You know I stink, right?"
"Yeah. I don't care."
Chuckling, she squeezes him. "You're a good kid."
"You still need to help me find a boyfriend."
"All in good time, my friend. All in good time."
— x —
(Y/N) didn't understand just how much she'd missed the mornings at Camp Half-Blood and on solid ground until just now.
Golden light seeps through her cabin, the sounds of forest wildlife accenting her movement around as she gets ready for the day. Thankfully clean, with her proof-of-death clothing burned into ashes (and her hair a neat cut after Silena took to it), she throws a flannel on upon feeling a chill breeze pass through her back door, and the soft fabric envelops her in warmth and comfort.
She pauses when a shifting sound reaches her ears through her front door, and barely a moment later come three raps on the wood.
Her breath hitches with anxiety at Percy's knock rhythm.
She doesn't know how to react when he forces a smile, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets as she opens the door.
"Hey," he greets, his eyes constantly flitting away from hers.
"Hey," she echoes, holding the door open wider and allowing him to interpret it how he wishes.
He takes the gesture the way she hopes for, stepping inside and letting her leave the door ajar behind him. Instead of sitting in one of the chairs, he leans against the frame of her bunk bed, and (Y/N)'s gut sinks at the sign that he isn't here for a proper conversation.
"What's up?" she asks, sitting on the edge of her desk and watching as he toes the floor with discomfort.
The muscle in his jaw ticks as he rubs his neck, avoiding her gaze for a while before he sighs and meets her eye. (Y/N) falters at the emotion that swirls within them, the mere sight making her loosen with guilt.
"I've been thinking about this for a while," Percy begins, visibly measuring each word before he says it, "including most of last night, and I figured that we need to have a talk."
He pauses, silently asking if she understands, and (Y/N) takes a shaky breath. "Well, before I jump to a conclusion, would you mind clarifying a bit?"
"Yeah," Percy breathes, running his hand through his hair to push it off of his forehead. "I've just . . . I've just got some questions that I want answered, really."
"Okay." (Y/N) nods, her body refusing to relax. "Fire away."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Pent-up for uncountable hours, the pain in his voice cuts through the air and into her soul, his question so sharp that his tone causes physical hurt.
"I didn't want you to worry about me," (Y/N) explains, though her words are meek and eyes downcast.
"You told Hesperos. You told him, but you couldn't tell me."
"If I didn't come back, he would know why. I wanted to be able to say goodbye."
"Then why not say goodbye to anyone else?" Percy scoffs, shaking his head. "What about Chiron, or Will, or- or the rest of us? Why did you think it would be better for the rest of us to just find out instead of hearing it from you?"
For the first time, (Y/N) flinches at his words. "You wouldn't have let me go," she says, already knowing how stupid the reasoning is.
Percy grits his jaw, the muscles in his forearms tight as his fists clench. "(Y/N), we are not in control of your life. You are. We couldn't have stopped you from doing anything, even if we tried. You know that."
"I do," she admits, her voice barely a whisper, "but I didn't realize that then. Not properly. And I didn't want to hurt you by letting you know that I would die, and—"
"Do you even understand how much it hurt to watch?" Percy interrupts, his eyes wide and almost manic. "Do you know what that feels like?"
"I do."
"Then why would you make us feel that?" Percy's eyes flood with tears, but he blinks them away. "(Y/N), I heard your heart go still. Do you know what it's like to feel someone die? To have your heart echo theirs, so that when it stops it feels like yours has, too? You never told me, and I had to feel it. That's how I learned. Can you even imagine what that does to a person?"
(Y/N)'s lips quiver, and she takes a breath in the hopes of steadying them. Percy doesn't seem to care, venting all his frustrations.
"You knew what would happen. You knew what we would go through, and you didn't even think to let us know. We could have fought to work around it, and if we failed, then at least we would have tried. At least we would know that we did our best to save you. That's what we're for, (Y/N). We would have given our souls to support you, or protect you, or even take your place. Even if we knew that you wouldn't let us. Because that's what we do. We fight for each other, and we can't do that if we don't know what's going on."
Swallowing thickly, (Y/N) watches as Percy swipes at his cheeks, his eyes red and glossy. She fights her own tears at the sight of his, the weight of the silence after his words pressing uncomfortably at her heart. "I'm sorry," she breathes, her resolve growing weaker with each passing moment, "about everything."
Percy looks at her, his eyes and words pure ice. "I know."
"You had a right to know, and I was stupid for not realizing that at the beginning. Not only about my death, but about what I planned about Luke, and everything else. I should have told you. And it's only fair for you to be angry with—"
"I'm not angry, (Y/N), I'm upset," Percy interrupts, his words stilted around his trembling breaths. "I'm upset because after everything we've been through together, everything we've fought over and worked towards, you still didn't trust me. You didn't trust that I would support your plan or keep it secret. You thought that it was a security risk—that's what you said, yourself. And you didn't trust that I would trust you to do what you thought was best. You thought that I would hold you back or get in the way. You didn't trust me, (Y/N). And I thought that we'd moved past that."
Guilt multiplies and thickens, squeezing her throat with a suffocating grasp. "I didn't think of it like that, Percy," she says, and the boy lets out a quiet chuckle of incredulity. "I swear it wasn't based on that."
"Maybe not consciously," Percy tries to explain, his heart constricting at the hurt on her face, "but that's how it comes across. That's what I heard every time you said you thought it was best that I didn't know. I want to know if something like that is going to happen to you, because I care. And it hurts when that isn't realized. You hurt me, (Y/N), because you thought you needed to do it all on your own. And I promised to tell you if that ever happened."
Understanding of her flaws and drowning in her regret, all she can do is apologize. Again.
Percy tries to keep his conscience from affecting his expression, afraid of how hers will contort and crumple in response. "I think," he starts, taking a breath to steady his words, "I think it's best if we . . . if we take some time apart for a bit."
"You mean if we break up."
He sighs, nodding. "Yeah."
At his confirmation, (Y/N)'s lips curl into a sad smile. "Maybe I should have just jumped to my conclusion."
"I care about you, (Y/N). So much." Percy's eyes fill with more tears, and he squeezes his eyes shut before blinking them away. "But . . . but I don't think it's the best idea for us to be together until we work out the way we should function. A partnership requires teamwork, a- and trust, and I think that maybe we just rushed into things too quickly."
Percy's eyes swirl with apology and sorrow, and (Y/N) cannot feel anything other than understanding.
"Okay," she says, and Percy's brow furrows at the agreement, free of hate or anger or desperation of any kind. "You're right. I need to work on myself. And I'm not going to hold you to something that makes you feel unhappy or undervalued. You deserve better than that."
"(Y/N)—"
"No, it's fine." Despite the shakiness that colors her voice, she gives him a smile of reassurance. "You have every right to decide what's best for yourself. And if that's not me, then that's okay."
"I want it to be you, though. I really, really do."
"Then maybe it's just not me right now. We'll figure it out. But if you want space, then I'll give it to you. No questions asked."
Percy looks away, his face crumpling as he fights for his composure. (Y/N) welcomes the break from his attention, tears spilling from her lids before she instantly wipes them away. Sniffling lightly, she closes her eyes, exhaustion rolling over her as she allows a deep inhale to fill her lungs. Battling his emotions, Percy dries his cheeks, giving himself another moment before he turns to face her again.
Both of them nearly break when their eyes meet.
A rapid knock on the door saves them each.
"(Y/N)? (Y/N), are you there?" Annabeth asks, her voice frantic.
Concerned, the daughter of Persephone pushes off of her desk, opening the door to be met with wide grey eyes full of excitement and confusion and fear.
"The Fleece," Annabeth pants, barely glancing at Percy, "it worked."
Her brow furrowing, (Y/N) stammers, "That- That's good."
Annabeth shakes her head, nearly on the verge of tears. "No, (Y/N). It worked. Better than we thought it would."
(Y/N) stares at her best friend before the realization hits. Gasping, she leaps off of her porch, sprinting to the barrier with Annabeth and Percy following soon behind. The daughter of Persephone comes to a halt when she reaches Grover and Chiron, who stand, dumbfounded, over the roots of the barrier's pine tree.
"Oh, my gods," (Y/N) whimpers, kneeling.
She pays no mind to Percy and Annabeth, who arrive beside the centaur and watch as (Y/N) carefully pulls a girl free from the dirt that packs around her figure. Resting the girl on her knees, she gently brushes her black hair away from her face, resting her fingers at her pulse point for confirmation of what she is terrified to hope for.
"She's alive," (Y/N) says, and the girl stirs as if to give proof.
Groaning quietly, the girl opens her eyes, and (Y/N) gulps down the lump in her throat at the crystal-blue irises that reflect the sky above.
Open. Living. Here.
Annabeth and Grover clutch each other in awe, and Percy leans forward to peer over (Y/N)'s shoulder at the girl.
The daughter of Persephone watches as the girl's eyes widen in amazement, staring into her soul. "(Y/N)?"
Fighting tears, she nods, and the girl engulfs her in a hug. Over (Y/N)'s shoulder, she looks at Annabeth, and her eyes flood with hope. "Annabeth?"
The daughter of Athena chokes on a sob, but she laughs with amazement. Beside her, Grover's face is twisted with a pained expression, but it softens when she says his name, too.
(Y/N) helps the girl stand, and Percy fidgets awkwardly as she hugs his friends. She looks at him next, tilting her head.
He forces a smile, not bothering to offer his hand. "I'm Percy Jackson. Son of Poseidon. Who- who are you, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I think you know that, Perce," Grover says, glancing at Chiron with uncertainty.
"I just wanna be sure."
He doesn't want to be sure. He wants her to say a name different from the one that burns itself into his mind.
The girl nods, still somewhat dazed as (Y/N) and Annabeth support her arms. Her blue eyes stare into his, and as the guarantee finally dawns, his stomach twists with dread. Although the others should have been celebrating this moment, their mannerisms emanate shock and fear, and Percy can practically see their minds reeling with wonders and concern for the future.
This was a moment that could change the tide of everything that was to come—that could make everything that had already happened completely, totally, immeasurably worthless.
"I am Thalia," the girl says. "Daughter of Zeus."
———
so! how are we feelin'?
I just realized the irony of having Percy and (Y/N) break up on chapter 13 because that's the same chapter in Fall when they have their first kiss ...
was it planned? absolutely not
do I still love it? fuck yes
also I found a patch of asters on campus the other day, along with some red poppies! it's like my school knows the flowers I like to reference in my writing lol.
now we just need a blue rose and some white daisies ...
but that's all for my little update here! until next time, besties :)
love y'all xx