Chapter 5: Closer
"Can you tell some of the old stories about me?"
Percy thought about it for a while. He didn't exactly pay attention to his Mythology classes, especially, and he hated to admit it, the classes on Hestia. In his defence, his younger self found the stories uninteresting, given her conflict-avoidant personality.
He was fourteen then, and thought only the war-related subjects were of use to him. On hindsight, he probably should have learned. He only remembered some stories that Annabeth drilled into his head. He cleared his throat. "Um..."
Hestia knew that look. The way his upper lip covered his lower lip and formed a straight line and his eyes flickered everywhere yet refused to make eye contact. The slight tremble in his hands.
Percy suspected she knew about his displays of nervousness. A week of meeting under the cover of night did that to a person.
And in that one week, things had seemed awfully calm, on Camp Half-Blood of course. No other campers had disappeared, and Dionysus told the campers not to send any search parties; the gods would handle this. Strangely, afterwards, he was recalled back to Olympus after delivering that message, and he had not returned since.
The morale of the demigods did not increase from the news. Despite many disliking Dionsyus, having a god in their presence in the event of a war would be comforting. First the Ares campers, now Dionsyus, and this new demigod arriving said to be Aphrodite's mortal form. Even for him, this sequence of events was most peculiar.
Aelia's, or Aphrodite's popularity spread, as did her spite. It seemed with the arrival of the new demigod brought chaos among the campers. Already five arguments had broken out among them, all of them boys. The girls obviously loathed Aelia, but since she was a goddess, they couldn't express their feelings, in fear of being smited if her powers were to return.
Percy thought it was rather strange that the children of Aphrodite were spiting their own mother. Could Aphrodite's power be so strong it could turn her own kin against her? Or was it something more foreign?
When Percy had told Hestia about this, she felt as though a void had opened and vacuumed her insides. Guilt washed over her, even if, as Percy told her, it wasn't her fault.
"You don't know a lot about me?" She asked, a tinge of amusement to her voice, knocking Percy out of his reverie.
Percy exhaled. "Well, I only know a few, and you probably don't want to hear them. You're better off not knowing."
"I'd rather know the painful truth than live with a comforting lie."
He shuffled uneasily. "Alright then. I guess the most well known thing about you was that you were chaste. You never married or fell in love, and hence rejected the marriage offers by Apollo and my dad." A pinch of anger bit at him for having to tell Hestia that she was to remain an eternal maiden.
Little did he know, the person next to him felt the same way, and that person in question chided herself afterwards heavily.
"Well, one night there was a party on Olympus, and you fell asleep in the woods, and this minor god, Priapus...he tried to...um...do it with you."
Hestia's face flushed from the story, but felt a bit thankful Percy tried to convey it in a better way.
"Anyway, there was a donkey nearby, and he brayed loudly just as he got close to you, and the other gods heard it, and then they rescued you. Afterwards, Priapus wasn't invited to anymore Olympian parties." He finished quickly.
They sat in a silence for a moment before he said, "You still think the painful truth is better?"
Hestia didn't have an answer.
~
"You're not allowed to bring cellphones in here, are you?" Hestia looked at the device in Percy's hand in apprehension, like it was going to suddenly explode.
Percy grinned and put his index finger to his lips. "Don't tell anyone. Plus, I won't be using it to call, or communicate in general. It has a voice memo function, so it can storytell better than my memory can. You can just listen to it. Here, I'll start recording."
He pressed a button and the screen displayed a flashing red circle.
"You could get yourself in trouble if you get caught with it," Hestia warned, but her heart was beating wildly that Percy was taking such risks for her.
"It's alright. I don't mind."
They talked like they always did night after night, each drinking in the other's company, savouring the moments, though neither wanted to admit it. They were friends, but to be more than that was to trespass into forbidden territory.
Percy knew that he couldn't like Hestia, since she was a maiden goddess would never accept him. Additionally, he would be disintegrated by the gods if they knew about this: a demigod liking a chaste goddess. Then again, she wouldn't like him back anyway, and he already had a...could be even call Annabeth his girlfriend anymore? Where was the trust relationships were supposed to have? Instead, he had to prove it to her he still loved her, but Annabeth didn't see that.
It was not entirely his fault. Aphrodite did play some part in this, he knew. Stupid love goddess.
"Percy?" Hestia asked hesitantly. "Are you alright?"
"Huh?" Percy started. "Oh, sorry."
"Thinking about Annabeth?" The name tasted sour in Hestia's mouth. It was funny how one person's happiness could be his unhappiness. Despite being the goddess of peace, she wanted nothing but to slap the daughter of Athena upside the head.
Percy smiled weakly. "Always able to read my mind."
"Well then, don't think about her. Think about something else that made you happy."
Percy did, and when they locked eyes, Hestia knew exactly what he was thinking of.
His eyes said, I'm thinking about you and I, and all our times we spent together.
Time seemed to elongate in that moment, letting them freeze that moment in time. The living world quieted, and sound itself vanished into a void. Their hearts raced, with no care for rhythm or steadiness.
Then, out of the blue, a voice broke the silence.
"Percy?"
~
The pit of Tartarus was not what it seemed. The gods and mortals thought it was simply the prison for the worst beings, the Titans and the Giants, but in reality, while the visible side showed a fiery pit of eternal fire, cliffs and rocks that jutted with deadly spikes and chains and manacles that bound the immortals to the pit, both spirit and body, the invisible side was a palace of brimstone and obsidian.
The palace was not shrouded from the Mist, for the Mist was created by Hecate, then-Titan of magic, and there were things, immortals, far more ancient than her. Immortals, like the primordial god of the pit himself, Tartarus.
Obsidian walls formed a square on a huge cliff just beside a lake of lava, and from the corners of each wall erected a tower with a pyramid roof. Pit iron, a demonic metal found only in Tartarus, was used to make gates large enough to fit ten Cerberuses, and said gates were placed on the wall facing away from the cliff for visitors.
Inside the castle hung torches that glowed with molten gold, and pillars made of fire and brimstone. Staircases leading to endless different rooms would have even Daedalus himself marvel at the Giant's creations that rivalled the Labyrinth. A Giant was sitting on a throne made of the same material used to create the palace.
The throne was elevated by three steps of staircases fit for Giants to walk on, surrounded by a moat of lava. At the foot of the stairs knelt another Giant.
The kneeling Giant had skin the colour of ash and arms and legs thicker than tree trunks. His face had empty eye sockets and no mouth. Shadows formed a cloak he donned, and wherever the shadows touched, the light hissed and faded like acid dissolving iron. Wherever he moved, darkness formed an afterimage of the Giant, before dispersing upon contact with light.
The one on the throne wore shining silver armour that covered his entire body, only leaving out his joints. His legs were scaly like a dragon. He only had one eye much like a cyclops. In one hand, he held a spear that crackled with purple lightning. Ancient Greek letters hovered in the air around him, revolving around like planets revolving around the sun - a gravitational pull.
"Clytius," the seated Giant rumbled, "What news do you bring?"
The plan succeeded, Encladeus. We move on to the next step. Clytius' voice was not spoken from him, but resonated around the room.
Encladeus' mouth curled up into a crooked smile. "Wonderful."
~
"Annabeth-" Percy began.
A flash of bronze. Beside him, Hestia doubled over in pain, clutching her gut, making a choked noise.
In the light of the moon, Percy saw Annabeth's dagger embedded into her stomach. Scarlet stained her dress.
"Wretch," Annabeth spat venomously.
"Hestia!" Percy rushed to her side. He carefully removed the blade, threw it onto the floor and looked at Annabeth, who was watching the scene with murderous rage. "Why, Annabeth?"
Percy said. "If you hate me, why hurt her?"
"She's the reason why you don't love me anymore," Annabeth cried.
Percy was too stunned to reply. Hestia's breaths were short and desperate. He had to get her to the infirmary now.
"What's gotten into you?" Percy shouted, sadness in his tone. "The Annabeth I knew wasn't like this."
"SHUT UP!" Annabeth screamed right back. But she wasn't looking at him, she was looking in Hestia's direction. As Percy watched, for a fraction of a second, he saw Aelia's form grinning at Annabeth, saying something that only seemed to increase her anger. At the same time, Annabeth's irises became pink in colour, not her usual grey.
Aphrodite is doing this, Percy realized. She's not seeing her as Hestia.
Annabeth screamed and lunged forward and grabbed the dagger on the floor. Percy reacted quickly, unsheathing Riptide and parrying the slash meant for Hestia.
Slowly, Annabeth's gaze switched to Percy. Tears started to stream down her face. She staggered back and dropped the dagger.
"So, you choose her over me?" She whispered.
"Annabeth-" Percy's tongue felt frozen. "I...it's not like that..."
"Yeah? Then what is it? If you still love me, tell me."
Silence trailed her words like shadows. The words wouldn't form in his throat. Could he really believe that he still loved her?
"TELL ME!" She practically wailed.
"I don't...know," he quietly replied.
Annabeth wiped the tears away. Her expression was one of sadness rather than anger. "Well then," she said, "get her out of here, or I'll throw with more accuracy the next time I see her."
He couldn't help Annabeth fight Aphrodite's magic. Taking her word with absolute seriousness, he grabbed Hestia and ran out of the gates.
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