ON THIS SPRING DAY
━━━━━ chapter seven
━━━━━ THE VIOLETS SPAT Violet out in what could only be the palace's dining room. She slid across the cold floor, and she stood up quickly, rubbing her aching hip. It was one thing to be forcibly flower traveled ( is this even a thing? ) by her ancestor, let alone painfully flower traveled. ( Violet still doesn't know if that is a thing. )
Violet took a long look around. It had to be the dining room, she didn't see what else it could be. She didn't even know what part of the palace she was in, having never explored this part of Hades's Palace. And if she wanted to leave, she couldn't—not with the large entrances on both sides of the room guarded with skeletons. The dark, imposing double doors on both sides were carved with intricate designs depicting scenes of death and destruction. What lovely scenery to gaze upon as you suffered through a meal with Hades, the Lord of the Underworld.
The vast chamber was illuminated by flickering torches, and the dark chairs and long table flickered with odd colors from the faint glow of gems that were embedded in the walls. The room itself—cavernous with high ceilings and columns carved from black marble, and even more guards were posted there with guns and batons. The floor looked like it was made of polished obsidian, and the floors reflected the torches and the gems, refracting it to the point it hurt Violet's eyes if she looked down the right way. Thick tapestries that depicted scenes of death, funerals, and the afterlife hung from the walls, only making the hairs on Violet's arms raise.
In the center of the room stood the massive and ornate dining table crafted from ebony wood, and it was adorned with gold plates and silverware. Elaborate candelabras were placed after every fourth chair, and the candles cast warm—but still ghostly—light across the table. There was no food on the plates, or anywhere at all. Despite the grandiose appearance, there was an underlying sense of dread and foreboding in the air—reminders that Violet was in Hades's place. Not Olympus, no matter how much resemblance there was between the two.
All in all, Violet hated Hades's Palace.
"I didn't wish this," she told the room defiantly, not even sure if any gods would hear her let alone if Persephone would hear her. "I'm not hungry, either. I don't want any breakfast—not from the Underworld!"
In a flurry of golden wheat and pink carnations, Demeter and Persephone appeared behind Violet, still furiously arguing about what would be for breakfast.
Here, up close and in the stuffy dining room instead of the stuffing garden, Violet got better looks at Demeter and her daughter. She wasn't sure if she was grateful for that, starting to notice more and more similarities between the two and herself. Demeter herself was still strict and rigid, but this close—she was more mysterious and enigmatic. But Violet figured most of the shift in her presence had to do with the lack of Hades's presence. And the goddess's dark hair fell down in waves, looking as lustrous and deep as fertile soil. Her dark eyes reflected the red and purple gems as she took in the entire room herself. Despite the "aged" appearance, Violet could still see the godly face and aura—Demeter radiated grace, wisdom, and power. It wafted off her like waves. Her face looked like it was carved with marble, but it slowly started to flush red as she took in the room.
"Why is it so dark?" she shrilled. "Dining in the dark? Does Hades have no guests? This is not how you treat guests!"
Persephone sighed. She brushed a stray carnation off her shoulder. "Mother."
Persephone, much like her mother, was much more regal up close. Her dark hair and eyes eerily matched Demeter's too much for Violet's liking. For a moment, Violet wondered if that's how people felt when they saw Violet and Dahlia side by side—a mother and daughter who shared exact features, the only thing separating them was age and the odd feature the daughter earned from their father. For Violet, she knew that feature was a more mischievous smile. Eros had a pretty mischievous smile for a god who wasn't the God of Mischief.
But Violet even saw the similarities between Persephone and the ghostly image of Elain. If it wasn't for the blonde hair, Persephone and her daughter would've been exact carbon copies. And Persephone's dark eyes imbued the Goddess of Springtime with an air of mystique and power. Her eyes were twisted with melancholy—the melancholy of one who has treaded the shadows of the Underworld for many, many years. Persephone still looked timeless, like any goddess would—her face was eternal beauty, with high cheekbones and a flawless complexion.
"Um ..." Violet clears her throat, "I don't want breakfast." But she added hastily; "Lady Demeter."
The goddess eyed her for a moment, but then turned to her daughter. "I like this one. She has respect."
Violet looked off. That's not what any other god would think.
Persephone rubbed at her eyebrows. "Eat," she insisted to Violet. "You will need strength."
"What I need is to find Nico and Percy and get to the River Styx," Violet countered. But she added; "Lady Persephone."
Persephone waved her hand, and three seats slid out from the table. Two on one side, and one alone on the other. The invitation was obvious, and you never could deny the gods of anything really. So Violet sat in the chair that was alone, sitting opposite to Demeter and Persephone. She nudged at her fork and the plethora of spoons on the gold plates.
A gold bowl swirled into existence, and splashes of milk spilled out onto the table. Violet looked up sharply, and Demeter smiled at her. "Cereal!" the goddess said. "A fine breakfast. Named after my Roman name, Ceres."
"Which is why you like it so much," sighed Persephone. She snapped her fingers and the bowl of cereal disappeared, and a blueberry muffin took its place. "Violet, you like muffins, don't you?"
"Uh ... yeah." Violet poked at the muffin. "I can't eat this, can I? I mean, we're in the Underworld."
Persephone looked down at the muffin. "Oh, I suppose not." She waved her hand, and the muffin disappeared with a zip! "Don't want to risk it."
Demeter eyed her daughter. "Oh, so now you think of that?"
The Goddess of Springtime glared at her mother. Violet shifted in her seat, tugging at the bracelets she had on her wrists. For so long, especially after meeting Hades for the second time last summer, Violet assumed Persephone was happier up on Olympus during the spring and summer and with Demeter, but seeing them interact ...
Violet wasn't sure if Persephone had any reprieve anywhere she went, whether it was the Underworld with Hades or if it was Olympus with Demeter. For one-half of the year, Persephone was Queen Persephone. She was Queen of the Underworld, Hades's right-hand woman, and she took the second throne beside him. For the other half of the year, she was up on Olympus with Demeter, with flowers, and with spring and summer. The two couldn't be more opposite. Demeter had a hard time accepting that her daughter was both instead of just her daughter and the young goddess who loved flowers.
Sickly enough, Violet understood that feeling too well. She felt like she and her own mother had that argument every time they saw each other ( see in: Violet storming into the Beaumont apartment and leaving as angrily as she came ). Demeter and Dahlia liked knowing who their daughters were, and they liked shielding their daughters from everything they could. But once those daugtsr started thinking or doing for themselves ( see in: Persephone eating the pomegranate, or Violet deciding she wanted to live at Camp ), then Demeter and Dahlia started to become cold. Violet didn't like all the similarities she could make between her and Dahlia and Persephone and Demeter.
Demeter summoned her own bowl of cereal, spinning her spoon around and around. Violet became a little dizzy watching it as the goddess and Persephone started fussing all over again. "—Elain here—"
"Her name is Violet, Mother," corrected Persephone.
"Oh, alright, sure." Demeter waved her hand dismissively. "Violet. You see, my daughter, I told you that you should have warned her when she arrived at Camp Half-Blood—"
"And make it harder for her?" countered Persephone, frowning heavily. "Mother, it would have never been that easy."
"Sure, it is," Demeter insisted defensively. "It's not like your Hades, or Zeus, or Poseidon—you can have children."
Violet looked up from the spoon. "Are you encouraging her to cheat?"
Demeter shrugged carelessly. "I'm only saying, if Hades can cheat, have children even though there is a pact forbidding him—my daughter can, too. And she doesn't even have a pact!"
"Mother!" Persephone slammed her fist against the table. "It was a one-time thing ..."
Violet looked between the two goddesses. "Well, that 'one-time thing' had her own kid, and that kid had a kid, and all the way until I'm here. So it would have been a little nice to know about, you know, this" —she waved her hand around the dining room— "before, or just like, way earlier."
"It would have never been that easy," insisted Persephone. "And don't you agree? You think that if people knew you were my legacy they would trust you less so. Campers and the gods trust you less and less with the war brewing—as a daughter of one of the minor gods and all. The distrust would only grow knowing ..." she shrugged, "we're a legacy of a goddess who never had demigod children before."
Violet's jaw ticked and she looked aside. She didn't want to admit Persephone had a point. And it made her think back to the meeting where Percy finally read the Great Prophecy—how Michael Yew and Katie Gardner both looked at her and claimed ( even if it wasn't outright ) that she could be the spy because she was Eros's daughter.
She glanced up, looking over to Demeter. "You remind me of Katie Gardner. I see the similarities between you and her." So what if it was a small jab at the goddess? Katie had accused Violet—with no evidence—of being the spy for Kronos.
Demeter straightened, and her eyebrows raised higher than ever. "Katie? How is she doing? Is she alright? What about the rest of my children? Miranda, Billie, Isla?"
Violet blinked for a moment, then she grimaced. "Well, like Lady Persephone said, war is brewing. No one at Camp is really doing ... well." And she couldn't help herself but add; "And Katie also accused me of being the spy for Kronos. So there's that."
Persephone gave her mother a very pointed look, as if to say Told you so. Demeter huffed. "I'm sure Katie didn't mean any harm by it."
"No, she did," insisted Violet. "I mean, I haven't done anything to say that I would spy for Kronos."
Demeter's expression hardened, and Persephone sighed. "Mother, what Violet is saying is that my sister, this girl named Katie, is running high on emotions." The goddess shot the daughter of Eros a warning look, and Violet's mouth clamped shut. "Look at us, we're all stressed, and we're all way down in the Underworld."
"Unfortunately, we are," sniffed Demeter, turning her head defiantly.
"Mother," started Persephone, laying a hand on top of the woman's hand. "I need to speak with Violet. Alone."
🌷
Demeter disappeared in a swirl of golden wheat. And that left Violet alone with Persephone. The goddess intertwined her fingers together, her eyes trained dutifully on the table. "I do understand why my mother first called you Elain," she admitted. "Even if it is not for the same reasons I would accidentally call you Elain."
"But Elain and I look nothing alike," Violet pointed out.
"No," agreed Persephone, "but you are similar as people, what makes you who you are—and you have her eyes."
Violet didn't see how it was possible, but she also knew people ever rarely saw themselves as others saw them. To her, her eyes were just a dark brown. They were such a dark brown you could never see her pupils until she was directly in sunlight ( and considering her ... "relationship" with Apollo, she tried not to stare at the sun, otherwise, she may go permanently blind ). But if Persephone saw the resemblance it made sense—she wanted to see any bit of her daughter in what was one of the few things she could. Despite being dead and being in the Underworld, Violet doubts Elain and Persephone have ever met down here. Or if they met at all when Elain was still alive.
"Did you ever meet Elain?" The question tumbled out of her mouth before she could think about it, and she winced, scrunching up her face as she waited with anticipation of Persephone getting upset.
But the goddess's face turned melancholic. "Once," she admitted. She pointed to the pomegranate charm hanging on Violet's charm bracelet. "When I gave her that sword. It wasn't long before she died, maybe a month or so before. She was only eighteen."
Violet's heart crawled into her throat as she realized just how close her eighteenth birthday was. Yes, two years was a long time for half-bloods, but two years can also pass by in the blink of an eye. She couldn't imagine being Elain—eighteen, giving birth, having a child, fighting a month, knowing if she didn't stop that monster it would get to her child and the father. She could hardly imagine being a mother at eighteen, let alone everything else Elain was going through.
"Did you know giving her that sword ..." Violet could barely finish the question. "Did you know she would die so young?"
"I expected it," Persephone replied. "Demigods rarely ever live long. I just didn't expect her to die ..." Her expression pinched. "I didn't expect her to die in such a fashion that she did."
"Giving her life to stop that monster," supplied Violet. "To stop Ms. Aarden."
"Is that what she named herself to you?" Persephone asked, glancing at the girl. "Aarden?"
Violet nodded. "She was my substitute teacher in seventh grade. What kind of monster is she? Aarden, I mean. Is she, like, a manticore? I've seen a manticore before—and he totally sucked—but Ms. Aarden isn't anything like what Thorn was."
Persephone leaned back in her chair, her shoulders slouching. With bad posture and a pained spine, Violet realizes this is the first time she has ever seen Persephone almost relax. But she didn't look relaxed, she looked troubled and pained. "Aarden is ..." She licked her lips. "It's hard to say, Violet. We're very lucky that Elain stopped Ms. Aarden before she became too strong. And when Melvin—Elain's son—became older, he managed to trap her and escape with his life. At that point, on my insistence, Melvin moved to France and then met Jeanne, Reine's mother."
"So you also met Melvin?" asked Violet.
The goddess nodded. "He prayed to me on a hill, hoping I would hear him all the way up on Olympus. I guess he also thought back to the story of how I was ..." She rolled her eyes. "Hills and I don't have good history together, not after I was kidnapped picking flowers on a hill."
"Right. Obviously."
But Persephone continued as if Violet hadn't spoken; "Melvin told me what he had been living since he was a young teenager—dreams of his mother fighting what you call Ms. Aarden. He also caught glimpses of Aarden in his day-to-day life. He knew she was coming after him. He said it was a haunting feeling."
A chill crawled up Violet's spine. What Persephone told her about Melvin's experience was eerily similar to what she experienced—the stalking, the dreams, the haunting feeling. "I ..." She shook her head. "I—"
"Lived that?" offered Persephone. "Yes, I know. I was watching for all those years. But when Melvin came to me, I knew something had to be done. But Elain's sword—I couldn't give him Elain's sword. It was crafted for her, not for Melvin. I didn't know what kind of boy Melvin was. I was watching over him, but I didn't know him. So I gave him that." She pointed to the second charm on Violet's bracelet, the larkspur charm. "I knew whatever he would need, that weapon would turn into it. He managed to defeat Aarden, learning from the dreams of what not to do. It was a miracle he escaped with his life."
"How old was he?" Violet asked.
Persephone's eyebrows pinched as she thought back. "Nineteen. He was nineteen. His father managed to shield him for just a bit longer than what Elain had."
"So ..." Violet took a deep breath, watching the goddess carefully. "What monster was Aarden? Or is Aarden? Elain—when I spoke to her last summer—didn't say that Aarden was actually dead."
"She is not," agreed Persephone. "But the monster she is ...? I—I can't say, Violet. I don't want to scare you more than you are already."
Violet stared at the goddess. Scared? So what! She didn't need to be coddled, she needed answers. "Lady Persephone, I need to know—if you know. Elain told me Aarden wanted to take over. She said that Aarden thought Elain, as your daughter, was the key to her takeover. What—what if she thinks Melvin—because he's your legacy—is also the key? What if Aarden thinks the same for me?"
Persephone's expression was pained. She rubbed at her eyebrows, tilting her head down. "You may have a point, Violet, but we can never be too sure. Besides, Aarden has never gotten too far. And she has not attacked you since you were twelve."
"But I had dreams of Elain and Aarden all last summer!"
"And have you since?" countered Persephone.
Violet stared. "Well ... no. But still—"
"There is no still, then," Persephone decided icily. She gave Violet a look that reminded her so much of Demeter—holier than thou, in a way. "I wanted you to know of your legacy as you became older, and now you do know. Maybe the way you learned was not idle, but you know. And now you can use that to your advantage—catch your enemies off guard with the family gifts."
"Why did Mom move us back to America, then?" asked Violet, unable to help herself. "Why? If moving to France was so safe."
"Nothing is ever perfectly safe," replied Persephone. "Especially not with you being a legacy and a half-blood. That heightens the risk tenfold. Dahlia knew that. So she moved the two of you back to America, hoping you could attend Camp Half-Blood and learn how to fight better than she ever learned."
"Right," Violet grumbled, crossing her arms. "And I suppose that makes me feel better for all the years of lying—especially when she knew I was struggling with those family gifts."
Her tone was calloused and bitter, but Persephone didn't look surprised. "Dahlia learned when she was a lot younger," she told the daughter of Eros. "She was nine, nearly ten. And she only learned because she accidentally grew hoards of daffodils in her mother's floral shop. She struggled with knowing and having to live normally. I think she was trying to give you some reprieve knowing you were already half-god."
Violet watched Persephone carefully. She knew why Persephone was telling her this—to try and help Violet see where Dahlia was coming from. But she didn't want to see it. She didn't want this at all. "But that doesn't change the fact she knew I was struggling, and she never told me. It would've made it so much easier if my mom had just told me."
"Would it have?" countered Persephone. "Or would you have blamed her for not telling even sooner? You want to blame your mom for something—for anything. I'm not saying I completely agree with Dahlia, but I also know what being a mom is like. You want to shield your kids from everything, even if it makes you a liar."
"Do you get it?" Violet counted with a hiss. "I don't think you do."
Persephone's eyes flashed. "I also unfortunately see your father in you, Violet Beaumont. Overconfident and shockingly insecure in the same breath. Don't be Eros, Violet. Now, go to your room. I'm afraid you won't make it to the River Styx today—or even in the next fifty years."
🌷
No matter what Persephone said, Violet wasn't Eros—she wasn't overconfident and insecure in the same breath. That isn't even possible, mind you. That is literally an oxymoron!
Wait ... no, it isn't. Or, is it? To be honest, she doesn't entirely know what an oxymoron is. She never really paid much attention in English class.
She looked around furiously, having been flower traveled again by Persephone. She had landed on a bed, which was neatly made with dark red velvet sheets. And the sheets to the bed were clean linen that was decorated with cute little gold bows and arrows and pink flowers. It would've been cute if Violet wasn't furious. The bed was pressed up against one wall, and the other three were built across a rather large room. It was a very Underworld-y bedroom, with ebony wood furniture and marble floors. And at the foot of the bed was a rather large dog bed, where Violet could just make out a nametag with Mrs. O'Leary on it. She could see Persephone's touches throughout what was seemingly Violet's room—every windowsill was decorated with a plant box with flowers already growing, and the dresser had small pots with carnations, lilies, and larkspurs growing out of them.
For a bedroom in the Underworld, it was cute. But Violet was still mad. She kicked the foot of the bed for good measure ( if Persephone really was watching, Violet was going to make a scene ) and stormed over to the door. The door wasn't locked, and part of Violet wondered if this was what Persephone wanted. She wondered if she did want Violet to sneak out and try to defy Hades more than she already had.
Even if Persephone didn't want it, Violet wasn't going to not try and find Nico and then Percy. They needed to get to the Styx. They needed to at least try and stop Kronos and Luke.
Violet poked her head out, checking left and right for any more of Hades's guards. From her bedroom door, she spotted none—but there very well could but just around the corner. Or maybe they were making rounds—
Before she lost her nerve, Violet stepped out of the bedroom, her shoes squeaking against the marble floors. This was a really bad time to be wearing Converse. She turned left and hurried down the hall, keeping a keen ear out for anything that sounded like rattling bones and walking skeletons.
The wing was pretty much deserted, which Violet was thankful for. And finding Nico's room was pretty easy considering just how expansive the palace was. But maybe that was because Nico and Violet's rooms were in the same wing, and there seemed to be no guards posted nearby. Nico's room—it had to be his considering the door was engraved with Nico di Angelo in cursive that was killer on Violet's eyes—was at the very end, and on the opposite side. She stopped in front of it and rapped her knuckles against it.
"Go away, Father!"
She scoffed. "Okay, rude. I might turn you back into a dandelion for that one, Nico." She slammed her fist into the door after that a couple of times. "Nico, it's Violet! And if you don't open this door—"
The door swung open, and Nico's face stared at her.
"Oh, good." She brushed off her shirt, flicking off a lone flower that was left after she was flower traveled by Persephone. "I was having a hard time thinking of another threat."
"Violet?" Nico frowned at her. "What—?"
"Come on!" She grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled him out. The door slammed shut behind him, practically rattling on the obsidian hinges. "We need to get out of here!"
"Violet, wait!" Nico pried her fingers off his shirt, skidding to a stop in the middle of the vast and empty wing. "How did you find me? The palace is huge!"
"My room's just down the hall," she answered like it was obvious. "Apparently, Persephone bugged Hades enough to give me my own room. Well, knowing them, they probably traded off—if you got a room from Hades, then I got a room from Persephone."
But Nico stared at her, and now more than ever his eyes were hard to read. "I'm sorry," he blurted. "I didn't know Father would do that. Really, I'm being honest. If I had known—"
"Nico," she started, holding her hand out, "I'm over it. Look, I was angry" —and when Nico winced, she quickly added— "but I'm not now. Frankly, you're not a good liar. If you had known Hades was going to throw Percy in prison, you wouldn't have sounded so shocked."
Nico's guilty expression melted, and he frowned at her. "Thanks ... I guess."
She grinned at him. "So just don't work on your lying skills! Otherwise, I might actually believe you're bad like your dad."
His lips pursed and he looked down the dark hall; Violet knew him well enough to know he was trying not to cry. She didn't rush him, knowing how hesitant he was to get close to people, but she did open up her arms. Slowly, Nico slid closer and hugged her. She didn't say anything, gently laying one arm over his shoulder and one on top of his head. She could wait for him to become taller, if they even had those years that is.
"I should've known my father would've done something like that," he admitted after a while. He sniffled loudly. "My dad was always complaining that Percy was going to be the child of the prophecy."
Violet frowned to herself. "Your dad shouldn't want you to be the child of the prophecy, Nico. I mean, have you heard the prophecy?"
"Snippets, from the dead."
"Then you know that the child is probably going to get their soul reaped."
Nico took a weak breath. "... Yeah. I know that. But he told me he'd tell me about my mom."
Her teeth ground together as she thought about how dismissive Hades was. He obviously knew that Nico had no memories of his mother, and that he had already lost his sister. It was natural that Nico wanted to know about his mom, any kid would, even if they hadn't just lost their older sister. And she didn't blame Nico for agreeing, you want to believe your parent is good, and you want to believe that they'll do right by you—except gods are exceptionally selfish.
"I get it, Nico," she told him. "You want to know, and anyone would want to know." She pulled away, holding him by the shoulders. "Look, we'll look more into your mom after this. I mean, we managed to learn about my whole ..." She tilted her head to one side, eyeing him knowingly. "You know. We'll look into your mom. And we even have her name! That's, like, half the mystery solved!"
"What are we, then? Mystery solvers?"
"Eh ... no, that's cringy."
🌷
By the time the sword reappeared in Percy's pocket, he was already in prison. A lot of good it did him. With nothing else to do, he sat down hard on the floor, and accidentally dozed off. He dreamt of Rachel and her parents, and the Dare family on vacation. Then the dream shifted to St. Louis, standing under the Arch, and he remembered how he had almost fallen to his death there. But over the city, a thunderstorm brewed—a wall of absolute black with lightning streaking across the sky. A few blocks away, swarms of emergency vehicles gathered with their lights flashing. A column of dust rose from a mound of rubble, which Percy realized was a collapsed skyscraper.
A nearby reporter was yelling into her microphone: "Officials are describing this as a structural failure, Dan, though no one seems to know if it is related to the storm conditions." The wind whipped her hair. The temperature was dropping rapidly—it had to be already ten degrees colder since Percy started standing there. "Thankfully the building had been abandoned for demolition. But police have evacuated all nearby buildings for fear the collapse might trigger—"
She faltered as a mighty groan cut through the sky. A blast of lightning hit the center of the darkness. The entire city shook. The air glowed and every hair on Percy's body stood up on end. The blast was so powerful he knew it could only be one thing—Zeus's master bolt. It should have vaporized its target, but the dark cloud only staggered backward. A smoky fist appeared out of the clouds. It smashed another tower and the whole thing collapsed like children's blocks.
The reporter screamed. People ran through the streets. Emergency lights flashed. Percy saw a streak of silver in the sky—a chariot pulled by reindeer, but instead of Santa Claus pulling, it was Artemis. The Goddess of the Moon was riding the storm, shooting shafts of moonlight into the darkness. A fiery golden comet crossed her path—it must've been her twin brother, Apollo.
But one thing was clear: Typhon had made it to the Mississippi River. He was halfway across the U.S., leaving destruction in his wake, and the gods were barely slowing him down.
The mountain of darkness loomed above Percy. A foot the size of Yankee Stadium was about to squish him when a voice hissed: "Percy!"
There was a shriek as Percy lunged out blindly. The sound woke him up just enough so he could take in what was happening—Violet had an arrow notched and pointed at him, and Nico was gasping for air as Riptide was pined against his throat. Percy blinked at Violet, about to demand why she was pointing an arrow at him, when she kicked him back and fired—
Percy winced, expecting to feel an arrow pierce through him, but ... nothing. He cracked his eyes open and noticed two arrows sprouting out of the wall, just above each shoulder, and they were pinning the fabric of his shirt to the wall.
"Dude!" Violet hissed at him, her eyes narrowed in "We're trying to get you out here!"
Percy gaped at her. "You shot at me!"
"You were about to cut Nico's head off!" she shrilled back.
"Oh—" Percy scoffed and scowled heavily. " So what? He tricked us, Violet! So why are you trusting" —he whipped his hand at Nico angrily— "him?"
"Because any of us would've fallen for that trick," replied Violet with a biting tone. "You. Me. Even Annabeth."
He watched her for a moment, but he didn't have a smart retort to make back. And it wasn't like she was wrong, even if both he and Annabeth would totally deny it.
By now, Nico had curled into a ball and was making a retching sound like a cat trying to cough up a hairball. Violet eyed Percy warily, and for a moment, he felt a twinge of embarrassment. If it had been her he had pined Riptide at, Nico probably wouldn't have been so generous the way Violet was.
Percy ripped the arrows out of the wall and tossed them over to Violet. "Thanks for not shooting me," he amended.
"I thought about it," she admitted breezily, but she was still watching him like a hawk. "But I figured you being dead would do us no good."
Percy pressed his lips together. "Right. That makes me feel a lot better about," he looked around the prison, "this."
Nico coughed loudly one last time before he gasped for air. "We have to get out of here," he told Percy.
The son of Poseidon frowned. His eyes flicked toward Violet, she was still holding Larkspur tightly. "Why? Does your dad want to talk to me again?" Percy's tone was biting and bitter.
Nico winced. "Percy, I swear on the River Styx, I didn't know what he was planning."
But that wasn't good enough for Percy. "You know what your dad is like!"
Nico's chin wobbled. "He tricked me. He promised—"
But Violet laid a hand on Percy's shoulder, carefully ignoring how his shirt was pierced. "We don't have time to argue," she told him. "We just need to get out of here. Nico put the guards to sleep, but that won't last much longer."
Percy's shoulders deflated. He didn't want to agree with Violet, especially after she just shot two arrows at him, but he knew she had a point.
Nico struggled to his feet and pointed at the wall. A whole section vanished, revealing a corridor. "Come on."
Nico led the way. Then Violet, who kept a careful grip on Larkspur. And then Percy, who was still grumbling to himself. For a moment, Percy wished he had Annabet's invisibility hate, but he soon learned he didn't need it. Every time they came to a skeleton guard, Nico just pointed at it and its glowing eyes dimmed. Unfortunately, the more Nico did it, the more tired he became. And they soon learned Violet couldn't do it after she had to duck behind Percy after she tried and the skeleton raised its gun at her.
"So I didn't get all the Underworld power perks," she told them sheepishly.
Percy grabbed her arm to make her stand back up. "Why even try?"
"Why not?" she countered.
"Because it wasn't sensible!"
She gave him a hard look. "That's rich, coming from you. Besides, why do anything sensibly? That ruins the fun."
Percy rolled his eyes, feeling a smile start to poke out. "One of us needs to be the brains with Annabeth gone, Love Bug. And we're not making Nico be the brains, here."
They walked through a maze of corridors filled with guards. By the time they reached a kitchen staffed by skeletal cooks and servants, Percy and Violet were practically carrying Nico. He managed to put all the dead to sleep but nearly passed out himself. They dragged him out the servants' entrance and into the Fields of Asphodel. And for a split second, Percy almost felt relief. Until he heard the sound of bronze gongs high in the castle.
"Alarms," Nico murmured sleepily.
"What do we do?"
Violet gave Percy a sharp look. "It's obvious—run."
Sure, running was the obvious answer, but running with the drowsy son of Hades didn't make it easy. And it didn't help that Violet practically dumped Nico into Percy's arms as she led the way. And so now, carrying Nico by himself, Percy felt like he was in a three-legged race with a life-sized rag doll holding him down. Percy lugged Nico along, holding Riptide out in front of them. The odd spirits of the dead Violet hadn't managed to push back already parted for Percy like the Celestial bronze was a blazing fire.
The sound of gongs rolled across the fields. Ahead loomed the walls of Erebos, but the longer they walked the further away they seemed. Percy was about to collapse from exhaustion when he heard a familiar bark that sounded like gunshots.
Violet's head perked up. "Mrs. O'Leary? Over here!" Suddenly, the hellhound bounded out of the darkness and ran circles between Violet and Percy, making figure eights.
"Good girl!" Percy sighed with relief. "Can you give us a ride to the Styx?"
The word "Styx" got Mrs. O'Leary excited. She probably thought Percy meant sticks. She jumped a few times, chased her tail just to teach it who was boss, and then calmed down enough for Percy to push Nico onto her back. And then Violet and Percy climbed aboard, and Mrs. O'Leary raced for the gates. The hellhound leaped straight over the EZ-DEATH line, sending guards sprawling and causing even more alarms to blare. Cerberus barked, but he sounded more excited than angry, like: Can I play, too? Fortunately, he didn't follow, and Mrs. O'Leary kept running. She didn't stop until they were far upriver and the fires of Erebos had disappeared in the murk.
Nico slid off Mrs. O'Leary's back and crumpled in a heap on the black sand. Percy took out a square of ambrosia—part of the emergency godly food he always kept with himself nowadays after learning the hard way. It was a little bashed up, but Nico chewed it. "Uh," he mumbled. "Better."
"Your powers drain you too much," Percy noted.
He nodded sleepily. "With great power ... comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later."
"Hang on!" Violet snapped her fingers in front of his face. "We've made it to the Styx, what do we do now?"
Percy fed him the last of the ambrosia, which was a small risk. The stuff can heal demigods, but it can also burn demigods to ashes if they eat too much. Fortunately, it seemed to do the trick—Nico shook his head a few times and struggled to his feet. "My father will be coming soon," he said. "We should hurry."
The River Styx's current swirled with strange objects—broken toys, ripped-up college diplomas, wilted homecoming corsages—all the dreams people had thrown away as they'd passed from life into death. Looking at the black water, Percy could think of about three million places he would rather swim.
He glanced back to Violet and Nico. "So ... I just jump in?"
"You have to prepare yourself first," Nico told him, "or the river will destroy you. It will burn away your body and soul."
"Oh." Percy glanced back at the swirling black currents. "Sounds fun."
"This is no joke," Nico warned, frowning heavily. "There is only one way to stay anchored to your mortal life. You have to ..." But before he could finish, he glanced behind Percy and his eyes widened.
Percy turned and himself face-to-face with a Greek warrior. For a second, he thought he was facing Ares, because this warrior looked pretty similar to how the God of War liked to portray himself—tall and buff, with a cruel scarred face, and closely shaved black hair. He wore a white tunic and bronze armor. He held a plumed war helm under his arm. But his eyes were human—pale green like a shallow sea—and a bloody arrow stuck out of his left calf, just above the ankle.
Percy will admit—he stunk at Greek names, but even he knew the greatest warrior of all time. The Greek warrior who died from a wounded heel. "Achilles," he croaked.
The ghost nodded. "I warned the other one not to follow my path. Now I will warn you."
Percy frowned. "Luke? You spoke with Luke?"
"Do not do this," Achilles warned. "It will make you powerful. But it will also make you weak. Your prowess in combat will be beyond any mortal, but your weaknesses, your failings will increase as well."
"You mean ..." Percy looked the ghost up and down, "I'll have a bad heel? Couldn't I just, like, wear something besides sandals?" He winced, adding hastily; "No offense."
The warrior stared down at his bloody foot. "The heel is only my physical weakness, demigod. My mother, Thetis, held me there when she dipped me in the Styx. What really killed me was my own arrogance. Beware! Turn back!"
He meant it, and Percy knew it. He could hear the regret and bitterness in Achilles's voice; his voice was coated in it. He was honestly trying to save Percy from a terrible fate. Then again, Luke had been here, and he hadn't turned back. And Percy's back straightened at the thought, having come to a horrible conclusion. That's why Luke had been able to host the spirit of Kronos without his body disintegrating. This—the River Styx—was how he prepared himself, and why he seemed impossible to kill. He had bathed in the River Styx and taken on the powers of the greatest mortal hero, Achilles. He was invincible.
"I have to," Percy insisted, suddenly sure of himself. "Otherwise I don't stand a chance."
Achilles lowered his head. "Let the gods witness I tried. Hero, if you must do this, concentrate on your mortal point. Imagine one spot of your body that will remain vulnerable. This is the point where your soul will anchor your body to the world. It will be your greatest weakness, but also your only hope. No man may be completely invulnerable. Lose sight of what keeps you mortal, and the River Styx will burn you to ashes. You will cease to exist."
"I don't suppose you could tell me Luke's mortal point?" Percy prompted, sounding hopeful.
Achilles scowled at him. "Prepare yourself, foolish boy. Whether you survive this or not, you have sealed your doom!"
With that happy thought, the ancient Greek hero vanished.
Violet stared at where Achilles had been. "He must hate his job."
Percy shot her a look, and she raised her hands defensively.
"Percy," Nico started, wringing his hands nervously, "maybe Achilles is right."
Percy rolled his eyes. "This was your idea."
"I know, but now that we're here—"
"Just wait on the shore, you guys," Percy told them. "If anything happens to me ... Well, maybe Hades will get his wish, and you'll be the child of the prophecy after all, Nico."
"Percy!" Violet hissed. "Are you being serious?"
"Serious as ever." He shrugged. For a long moment, he stared, maybe to make sure if he didn't make it out, he could at least remember Violet's face. And before he could change his mind, he turned back toward the River Styx. He concentrated on the small of his back—a tiny point just opposite of his navel. It was well-defended when Percy wore armor, and it would be hard to hit by accident, and few enemies would aim for it on purpose. No place was perfect, but this seemed right to Percy—and a lot more dignified than, like, his armpit.
Percy pictured a string—a bungee cord connecting him to the world from the small of his back. And he stepped into the river.
🌷
Imagine jumping into a pit of boiling acid. Now multiply that pain times fifty. You still won't be close to understanding what it felt like to swim in the River Styx. Percy planned to walk in slowly and courageously like a real hero or something. But as soon as the water touched his legs, his muscles turned to jelly and he fell face-first into the current. Before he knew it, he was submerged completely. And for the first time in his life, he understood what it felt like to drown. He couldn't breathe, and his lungs started to burn as he started to try and thrash around. Every nerve in his body burned. He was dissolving in the water. As he shivered from the pain, he saw faces—Rachel, Grover, Annabeth, Tyson, his mother—but they faded as soon as they appeared.
"Percy," his mom said, her face swimming in the dark currents. "I give you my blessing."
"Be safe, brother!" Tyson pleaded.
"You need a better plan," Annabeth chided with a haughty expression.
"Enchiladas!" Grover said, though Percy wasn't sure where that came from or how it was supposed to be helpful ( but it wasn't ).
Percy was losing the fight. The pain was too much to bear. His hands and feet were melting into water, and his soul was being ripped from his body. Maybe this is what the prophecy meant—not getting his soul reaped by a blade, but by a river. He could hardly even remember who he was. The pain of Kronos's scythe had been nothing compared to this.
The cord! a familiar voice said. It was light and airy. Don't forget about the cord! That would be, like, embarrassing.
Suddenly there was a tug in Percy's lower back. The current pulled at him, but it wasn't carrying him away anymore. He managed to get his footing, trying to imagine the string connected to his lower back. That was what was keeping him tied to the shore, it was the thing keeping him tied to life.
"Honestly, Fish Face ..." Violet drawled slowly. That was her name. Violet. Her voice was much clearer than anything else had been. "It'd be one thing if it was lava or something—but water ...? This is your element! Besides, I'm not going through this without you."
With each word, the cord strengthened. If he could say anything at all, he would've begged her to keep talking. He looked up, spotting Violet grinning down at him from the pier built above the Canoe Lake. Her head was poking out, laying her body against the wooden pier; her hair was braided in small braids, and the top braids were pulled away from her face. She wore the typical orange Camp T-shirt, and a pair of blue jean shorts, and her Converse shoes were covered in a thin layer of dirt. She was laughing at him, making jokes at his expense as he did something stupid. That seemed pretty normal for them—he would do something stupid, and then she would laugh and make jokes.
"Maybe it should be Fish Brain, not Fish Face," she told him, reaching down the pier for him. Her charm bracelet jangled with two charms—one purple larkspur, and a pomegranate charm. "But I think Fish Face has a better ring to it."
When he didn't immediately grab her hand, she rolled her eyes and said, "Come on, Percy! I don't have all day. Here—"
She reached down and grabbed his wrist, and it was like a snap. Memories came flooding back to him—sharper and more colorful than ever before. Old memories he hadn't thought about in years—the time he met Violet when he was twelve, the first archery lesson in Cabin Eleven with her and AJ, the limo with Aphrodite as she smiled what could only be Violet's smile.
He felt his body stop dissolving. His name was Percy Jackson. And the girl who called him Fish Face was Violet Beaumont. His wrist slipped out of her hand, and he let her hand slip into his—
Percy burst out of the river. He collapsed on the sand, coughing and sputtering like crazy. Violet and Nico both yelped and scrambled back in surprise.
"Oh my gods ..." she murmured as Percy struggled to his feet. "Oh my gods—Percy, your skin!"
Percy frowned to himself and looked down. His arms were bright red, and all the hairs on his arms had been singed off. He felt like every inch of his body had been broiled over a slow flame. He looked back at Violet, blinking at her. "You were ..." He slowly pointed back to the river.
Violet and Nico shared a glance. "... What?" she asked. "I was what?"
"I—You ..." Percy took a deep breath, trying to understand it himself. Violet had been there, and pulled him out of the river, but she was also here. Her hair was in braids, styled similarly to how it was in the river, and she had on the Camp T-shirt, but she didn't have any shorts on. Besides, she looked a lot more banged up right here than she did back in the River Styx. "You pulled me from the river. I, like, grabbed your hand ... and stuff."
Both Nico and Violet stared at him, and Percy was overly aware of how stupid he sounded. "Percy, I didn't go into the river," Violet told him slowly and carefully, as if afraid he would get angry. "Are ... are you sure you're okay?"
Percy coughed up the last of Styx water from his lungs. "I'm fine," he insisted. Luckily, the color of his skin turned back to normal to help his case. And the pain also subsided. Mrs. O'Leary came up and sniffed me with concern. Apparently, Percy smelled really interesting now more than ever.
"Do you feel stronger?" Nico asked.
Before Percy could decide what he felt, a voice boomed, "There!"
An army of the dead marched towards the three half-bloods. A hundred skeletal Roman legionnaires led the way with shields and spears. Behind them came an equal number of British redcoats with bayonets fixed. In the middle of the host, Hades himself rode a black-and-gold chariot pulled by nightmare horses, their eyes and manes smoldering with fire. "You will not escape me this time, Percy Jackson!" the god bellowed. "Destroy him!"
"Father, no!" Nico shouted, but it was too late. The front line of Roman zombies lowered their spears and advanced. Mrs. O'Leary growled and got ready to pounce. And maybe that's what set Percy off—for a hellhound, Mrs. O'Leary was a nice pet. Plus he was tired of Hades being a fucking asshole. If Percy was going to die, he might as well go down fighting.
Percy yelled and the River Styx exploded; Violet gasped, grabbed Nico, and backed away quickly. A black tidal wave sailed over Percy and slammed into the legionnaires. Spears and shields flew everywhere. Roman zombies began to dissolve, smoke coming off their bronze helmets.
The redcoats lowered their bayonets, but Percy didn't wait for them. He charged. It was the stupidest thing he had ever done ( even counting his fight with Ares when he was twelve ). A hundred muskets fired at him—point blank. But all shots missed their mark. Percy crashed into their line and started hacking with Riptide. Bayonets jabbed; swords slashed; guns reloaded and fire, but nothing touched Percy. He was invincible. He whirled through the ranks, slashing redcoats to dust one after the other. His mind went on autopilot—stab, dodge, cut, deflect, roll. Riptide was no longer a sword. It was an arc of pure destruction.
Percy broke through the enemy line and leaped into the black chariot. Hades raised his staff. A bolt of dark energy shot toward him, but the son of Poseidon deflected it off Riptide and slammed into him. The god and the half-blood both tumbled out of the chariot. And the next thing Percy knew—his knee was planted on Hades' chest. He was holding the collar of the god's royal robes in one fist, and the tip of Riptide was poised right over his face.
There was nothing but silence. Percy wasn't even sure if he heard the roar of the Styx anymore. The army did nothing to defend their master. He glanced back and realized why—there was nothing left of the army, nothing but weapons in the sand and piles of smoking, empty uniforms. He had destroyed them all.
Hades swallowed. "Now, Jackson, listen here ..."
He was immortal. There was no way Percy could kill him, but gods can be wounded. And Percy knew that firsthand, and he also knew stab wounds from swords don't feel good. "Just because I'm a nice person," he snarled, "I'll let you go. But first, tell me about that trap!"
But Hades melted into nothing, leaving Percy holding empty black robes. He stood up furiously and cursed. Now that the danger was over, he realized how tired he was. Every muscle in his body ached. He looked down at his clothes—they were slashed to pieces and full of bullet holes, but Percy didn't have a single injury. Not even a scratch.
Nico's mouth hung open. "You just ... with a sword ... you just—"
"I think the river thing worked," Percy said dumbly.
Violet scoffed, looking aside. "Really? Never could've guessed, Fish Face."
An image flashed across Percy's mind—the image of Violet while he was in the River Styx as she called him Fish Face. He shook his head. Mrs. O'Leary barked happily and wagged her tail. She bounded around, sniffing at empty uniforms and hunting for bones. Percy lifted Hades's robe. He could still see the tormented faces shimmering in the fabric.
He walked to the edge of the river. "Be free," he said as he dropped the robe in the water and watched as it swirled away, dissolving in the current.
Violet nervously plucked at the bowstring to Larkspur. "Nico," she started. "Go back to your dad. Find out what's going to happen on Mount Olympus. See if you can convince him to fight with us."
Nico stared at her. "Violet, what? I—I can't. He'll hate me now. I mean ... even more."
She pursed her lips. "Please?"
His expression was hurt. "You don't trust me, do you?"
Violet looked over to Percy, but he only shrugged. He agreed that Nico needed to go back to Hades, and he didn't trust Nico either, but Nico asked Violet, not him.
"Violet." Nico looked at her, and Percy suddenly thought he was taken back to two winters ago when he saw Nico and Bianca interact. It was like Nico was ten years old again, listening to his sister try and tell him how she was leaving him behind. And it suddenly struck Percy just how close Nico and Violet had become. There was nothing quite like nearly dying to bring people together, and Percy knew that firsthand, but these two had become siblings just without sharing any parents.
She didn't say anything, choosing to sigh and lean her head back slightly. "Nico, that's not it."
But it was clear the son of Hades didn't believe her, and it was fair not to—Violet was a horrible liar, all things considered. His frown worsened, and he looked at Percy. "I told you I was sorry. Please ..." he looked between Percy and Violet, his tone almost turning to pleading, "let me come with you. I want to fight."
"You'll do more help down here," Violet told him gently. "Besides, you need to rest a lot. You wore yourself out."
"You don't trust me anymore." Nico's shoulders slumped, and Percy started to actually feel bad for the kid. Yeah, he didn't trust Nico after everything, but he still believed Nico didn't mean for Hades to lock Percy up either. And in all honesty, he was still too stunned by what just happened in battle to think clearly.
"Listen to Violet, Nico. Just go back to your father," Percy insisted, trying not to sound too harsh. "Work on him. You're the only person who might be able to get him to listen."
"That's a depressing thought." Nico sighed and stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. "... Fine. I'll do my best. Besides, he's still hiding something from me about my mom. Maybe I can find out what."
But before Nico could go, Violet hooked her arm around his neck and gave him a quick, small hug. Unlike how Percy thought he would react considering how adverse Nico seemed to everyone, Nico quickly hugged her back. It was just another sign of how close they were.
"Good luck, Nico," she told him, patting his shoulder. "And just put the blame on me. You know, the whole breaking Percy out of prison and all. Hades will probably believe it."
Nico's cheek twitched. "He'll take any chance to blame you."
"Exactly!"
Percy grabbed Violet by the wrist, and he ignored the way she bristled. "Nico, we have to go. Like, now."
Nico's eyebrows pinched together. "Where?"
Percy looked upward, looking toward the cave entrance. He was dreading the long climb back to the world of the living. "To get this war started. It's time I found Luke."
🌷 MAR. 14TH, 2024 / ms. aarden lore!! i love dropping in these little hints huhuhu
in the very beginning of this fic, i was lowkey dreading ms. aarden, so that's why she was included much but i've a really excited to write out ms. aarden now that i've planned a lot more since the beginning of the fic (like the nitty gritty details for this fic and most of heroes of olympus). but i like how sparingly i mentioned her back then (albeit because i wasn't sure if i was going to write her in the way i originally planned, but i am) because it puts your "guard down" in a way even though i feel like the hints are heavy-handed - but i think that about everything because i obviously KNOW what i mean behind everything i write 'cause it's my idea lol
i didn't originally plan on violet talking with persephone (because this whole scene is kinda glazed over in my mind, i can't lie), but i was skimming the last olympian as like a proofread to make sure all the new details/scenes i wanted to add in for violet and aj would work in this fic, so i got to this part of the book and it basically smacked my frontal cortex saying that i had to write an awkward convo between demeter, persephone, and violet, and then a second scene between persephone and violet on their own. but i like how violet finally got to talk to persephone by herself (halfway, demeter's there half the time).
i did take away demeter's riordan-given ... "personality" because it was, frankly, dog shit! why was she SO obsessed with cereal, like it could have been funny if it was a one-off joke here and there, but that was ALL she was and it killed me *sobs* maybe it's because i love demeter in greek mythology (because i love every goddess because ✨women✨) but she was given NOTHING in pjo/hoo even tho her children could be so fucking powerful. and i know i didn't paint her in a SUPER good light, but i said it before (in other fics of mine and this one too, i think), but i like portraying the gods as good AND bad instead of just good OR bad
greek, egyptian, and roman mythologies were my hyper-fixation when i was a kid so let me rant for a moment - the gods (and i know especially for greek gods, but i can't remember entirely for egyptian gods because i studied that SO long ago) are supposed to represent humanity, and that includes good and the bad of humanity. so i literally start tweaking when gods are painted as this one thing and this one thing only (unless it's poseidon and zeus, who both constantly r@ped women - fuck them!!). like i love when demeter and apollo are written as their grief (demeter for losing persephone, and apollo for loosing, like, all of his lover) and they do horrible things - i dunno, i like things like that because i'm lowkey a lil' snooty when it comes to this
but persephone and violet needed to talk anyway, especially one-on-one - because of elain, dahlia, and the stuff going on with ms. aarden (which will develop more later on i swear -), and persephone clocking violet so quickly when she started getting an attitude -
persephone ate with that one line "i see your father in you" - i'm sorry, i giggled when i wrote it because persephone ISN'T wrong. violet is so eros and dahlia in the same breath despite not liking EITHER of them. and i love having characters have to face the things they don't like about their parents are the traits they have themselves
a lot of this chapter, in many ways, is a "character study" - of violet, of violet and dahlia, a little bit of demeter and persephone, and of nico and violet. i didn't PLAN on that originally, but i love it so i'm keeping it this way!
anyways, thoughts?? opinions??
(not edited nor proofread)