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jflashandclash · 4 years

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Tales From Mount Othrys

The Versatility of a Guitar String

Warning: Depictions of Violence.

***

“Forget your family.”

Flynn’s melody murmured in my dreams like the silkiest spider threads rocking a slumberer’s hammock. “You deserve to enjoy this: the start of your new life. Let yourself forget.”

Her words cradled my mind in a tranquilizing solace. At the time, the only response I could utter was, “What other family? You’re all the family I need.”

--Memoirs of a Talking Head[1]

***

When Jack agreed to tear down the gods, he didn’t think it would involve him snorkeling in a toilet.

It did.

Jack thrashed and twisted, barely getting a gulp of air before being submerged again. His orange converses squeaked uselessly against the bathroom’s floor tiles.

The girl shoving his head into the water bowl was much stronger and larger than he, despite being several years younger. Between dunkings, her and her friends’ laughter reverberated off the walls.

This, unfortunately, wasn’t the first time someone had forced Jack to be well acquainted with the most vital part of a restroom. Last time, Ms. Daisy Blackwell, one of the prettiest girls at his church, had taken Jack behind the church after his solo at one of their concerts. She had said she wanted him to sing to her. When Tommy Higgles, her boyfriend, found out that she asked Jack to do more than sing to her, he and his friends cornered Jack in the boys’ bathroom at school.

Last time, Tommy had emptied all of Jack’s medication into the toilet bowl. “That straightening out your memory, freak!” Tom had shouted.

This time, the water was cleaner. Or, at least, it wouldn’t give him an overdose as he choked on it.

Last time, Jack had no idea it was going to happen. Ms. Blackwell had heard Jack “confused” things a lot, and that he was “confused’ about her relations with Tommy. But, afterwards, Ms. Blackwell wouldn’t acknowledge him in public, or that anything had happened between the two of them, like the other boys and girls that had taken an interest in Jack at his small high school.

This time, Luke had warned Jack that it was a Camp Half-Blood hazing ritual, one from which Luke could not spare him. Jack had to either fight off a hulking daughter of Ares or get humiliated.

Despite the warning, Jack felt himself thinking the same thing he had before: I’m going to drown.

The water seeped into his lungs during his squirming. Pressure mounted in his chest. There wasn’t enough time to cough. Panic made his heartbeat thud inside his head. His head smacked into the toilet bowl with each thrash.

The worst difference surfaced as he forced his limbs to stop fighting. Last time, Jack knew he would reach eternal salvation if he died the humiliating death of a toilet warrior. This time, as Jack willed his body to give up, he wondered, Do half-bloods even have souls?

The fingers clenching his hair pulled his head back, stretching his body in a strained arch.

He sputtered and coughed out the water.

Clarisse La Rue’s sneer loomed in his peripheral. “Had enough of a swim?”

At least there was a toilet directly in front of him, so no one would have to clean up the content of his lungs and stomach. That would be rude to any godly janitorial staff. He hacked, unable to talk for a moment.

Clarisse released him.

Jack barely missed cracking his head against the toilet bowl. Blurrily, he searched around, trying to prop himself up on the cool, slick floor.

The laughter echoed around the room. The massive girl stood.

“Why?” Jack finally choked out.

“To show you the pecking order,” Clarisse said. She and her friends got up and left the bathroom stalls.

Jack trembled. The first time he tried to get up, his legs felt like jelly. Finally, he got to his feet and stumbled to the sinks. He turned one on and dunked his head under, reminding himself that he was in control of the water rinsing him off.

The monsters on the Princess Andromeda had been way nicer on his first day. They at least ignored him or said he smelled good.

Someone shook Jack’s shoulder.

He flinched.

“Hey, we’re not really supposed to be in the girl’s bathroom.”

Jack tried to look through the water at his escort: a thirteen-year-old child of Apollo named Ryan. He had tan skin and an athletic build. Once he got Jack’s attention, he crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows.

After a few more moments of feeling the water against the back of his head and his neck, Jack shut the sink off. He let his dripping bangs plaster onto his face and soak his flannel shirt. The top was already drenched. As it turned out, toilet water: not refreshing.

“Why didn’t you help?” Jack asked. To still be there, Ryan must have stood by the entrance the whole time, watching.

Ryan’s expression was skeptical. Like everyone else who had commented on how old Jack was, Ryan seemed disappointed by what he saw. “You think I can put a dent in a child of Ares?”

Jack shrugged. “You could have run to get help.”

“No one is going to help against Clarisse.”

No wonder Luke hates Ares and his children.

Although the room felt warm with the climate control, Jack hugged himself. It took every ounce of control not to tug at his hair and to, instead, dig his fingers deep into his ribs. He promised himself he wouldn’t mess this mission up and that meant acting as normal as possible.

Mission? Quest? Had Kronos called it a quest?

This was the exact time Jack should be asking Ryan questions. Phil and Luke both said Jack was perfect for this type of quest, because he was so unassuming and genuinely curious when asking questions. Charming and harmless, as Ms. Blackwell had teased him.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Jack asked. “Were you dunked?”

Jack tried to imagine coming in here as a young kid, before he met Flynn and knew Greek monsters were real. He would have thought this was whole place was a cruel prank or a bad dream.

“All new people get dunked,” Ryan said. He looked impatient. “You get over it.”

Jack felt like his tongue was four times too large. That didn’t seem right, but he doubted saying so would get him any points with Ryan.

Only twenty-four hours, Jack reminded himself. Twenty-four hours before Luke, Lucille, Lou Ellen, and I need to get out. You can be normal for twenty-four hours.

He hoped.

Summer solstice was a day away. From what Luke got out of a quick Iris Message and a dream vision with Kronos, some kid named Percy Jackson should be starting some massive war with the gods. Percy should have been be dragged into Tartarus with something called the Master Bolt. Then, this camp wouldn’t be safe. It would crumble into a battlefield between the gods.

“Just remember when Clarisse dunks you that she’ll be killed in the crossfire. I’ll make sure of it,” Luke had said.

Jack didn’t want Clarisse and her friends to be killed in the crossfire. He just wanted her to be less mean. Seeing her in person, the former seemed much more likely.

Ryan sighed. “Come on. Let’s see if you you’re as bad at horseback riding as you are with archery.”

Jack shuffled forward. He guessed Ryan didn’t intend to sound so critical, but no one at camp could believe Jack had survived on his own for so long, being a son of Apollo. Although Phil immediately stated that Jack had been claimed—he hadn’t, whatever ‘claiming’ meant—whispers went around that maybe he was supposed to be in the Aphrodite cabin instead.

“At least he’s good for the girls to look at. Don’t think he’ll do much in the coming war,” he had heard Lee Fletcher, his cabin counselor, muttering when Jack accidentally elbowed Chiron in the chest during their archery lesson.

Jack knew he wouldn’t have survived on his own, but Luke had him under strict orders not to mention Flynn or Luke or anything about Kronos. As for that day, they didn’t know each other, which was a real shame. Jack wanted Luke to show him Thalia’s pine tree.

The rest of the training was similar. Fortunately, his cabin mates—is that what they were called?—and Chiron were too distracted by the fights that kept breaking out between the children of Athena and Jack’s siblings. Something about Poseidon being in the right to take a stand against Zeus? Jack had only recently learned the gods and titans were real. He couldn’t keep the internal bickering straight.

Most people were too distracted and tense to pay Jack much attention for the rest of training, which was a problem. That meant he couldn’t complete his mission either. He hoped Lucille was having more luck in the Aphrodite Cabin and Lou Ellen in the… where had Luke said she’d go?

Luke’s words haunted him. “Either we turn them or we consider them sword fodder. Anyone on the Olympic side will need to die, so you’re doing them a favor if you can show them how corrupt the Olympians are.”

Flynn, Jack’s girlfriend, understood immediately. That’s why Luke had sent her on a mission to a place called New Rome. Luke said that would be too difficult for Jack to tag along.

This quest was a test for Jack, Lucille, and Lou Ellen: a way to prove they were worthy of Kronos’ next world.

Like introducing people to Jesus, Jack mused. He remembered walking through the sterile halls of Botin’s Hill Hospital, how the sick welcomed him inside to hear him sing church songs. Pity he didn’t know any about our savor, Kronos.

Jack frowned. Luke and Phil kept saying he could heal people with his song. But, the sick people didn’t always get better when he sang. Sometimes…

“Jake, right?”

Jack flinched. The Apollo cabin was setting up for the campfire. He’d zoned out, watching as the Hephaestus campers stoked the flames. Everyone else referred to the cabins by numbers, but Jack couldn’t keep those numbers straight, so he tried to catalogue everyone by the few gods he did know.

A friendly, blond nineteen-year-old stood beside him. The familiar scar made Jack grin, despite his feelings of being a failure. He shouldn’t want to talk to Luke. That would mean reporting that he’d had no luck converting any of his siblings, or even seeing if they could be converted down the road. The children of Apollo seemed to love their—his—dad wholeheartedly, though Jack hadn’t gotten any specific person’s story yet.

Luke squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “How’s your first day going? You came in at a rough time.”

Jack knew that Luke had to pretend they’d never met before, but the convincing, detached quality of Luke’s voice was demoralizing, especially with how he got his name wrong.

Jack managed to nod at him. He hadn’t realized that, when he sat down on the log, he’d pulled his knees up and was rocking.

Almost frantic, Jack straightened out his legs and stopped rocking. Normal for one day. Normal for one day. He repeated to himself. Then, he could tell Flynn that he’d done a quest, right? He could show Luke that he’d be worthwhile in his army. Besides, the campfire was all about singing. This is where Jack could shine.

Jack gave Luke a much more confident smile.

“Just keep it together, buddy,” Luke said, his grip on Jack’s shoulder becoming uncomfortable. “I’m sure the rest of your night will be a success—”

Another camper, an Athena boy, raised his voice in middle of a discussion, drowning out Luke. “—maybe because someone needs to keep order in this camp—”

“Oh, can it! You’re still pissy at Poseidon for a rivalry that you won. Get over it! There’s no reason you’d be on Zeus’ side otherwise!” one of Jack’s siblings shouted at the Athena camper.

More shouts broke out. The campfire flickered uncomfortable, dark red. The flames looked too low on the wood to still be lit.

Jack felt like something was about to go wrong, something important.

One of the Ares campers shoved the Athena kid—Malcolm? He stumbled, barely dodging around the fire. He slammed into another camper to keep his balance. And—

The movement was too fast for Jack to dodge, not that he would have thought to.

One of Jack’s siblings toppled backwards.

Pain flared in Jack’s throat, as the kid’s—Will’s?—elbow smashed into Jack’s windpipe. Will hadn’t meant to, he’d been trying to pinwheel to keep his balance—

Jack flopped backwards, clutching at his neck. He coughed. Each breath rasped painfully.

Hands gripped Jack’s shoulders. They dug into his skin, dragging him away from the campfire. Another member of his cabin went to pummel Malcolm, even though the incident hadn’t been Malcolm’s fault.

The yells were jumbled. The bodies crashed into a scuffle—they looked more like a random mob of strangers than cousins and siblings. All Jack could think was, My throat—Dear God—can I still sing?! What if they crushed it? What if they crushed my windpipe?

A more logical part of him said that his windpipe would be fine. He needed a few minutes to recover. That would be it, right? What am I without a voice? That’s my only useful trait. Would Flynn want me anymore?

He wheezed.

Whoever was dragging him pulled him up onto his feet.

The pain lessened, but the panic made Jack clutch at his neck. He tried to talk. His voice came out a squeaky rasp.

He expected Luke to be his savor, to be chastising him for over-dramatics.

The person beside him was a foot too short.

“Come on. We have throat lozenges in the cabin,” Ryan said. He released Jack and started walking back towards the housing.

Jack pointed frantically back to where the campfire had become a battle zone. The Ares and Apollo campers teamed up against Athena. A centaur already stood in the fray, pulling teenagers off each other.

“Chiron will take care of it,” Ryan said, “We plenty outnumber Cabin Six and you’ll be in the way if you stay.” This time, the irritation in Ryan’s voice was unmistakable. “You’re really not cut out for this, are you? You had plenty of time to move.”

Jack trembled. He reminded himself that Ryan, like other kids that had mocked him, was a child of God’s and that all God’s children were…

Something flipped in Jack’s head. They weren’t equal, were they? And God—the gods—didn’t love them equally. Luke said that Percy Jackson—the son of Poseidon that Luke had framed for the thievery of the Master Bolt—that kid could control water. Thalia had been able to shoot lightning. These gods, the Greek gods, didn’t treat them as equal, else Thalia wouldn’t be a pine tree.

By the time Jack got enough of his voice back to talk, they approached the golden exterior of Apollo’s empty cabin. “You seem like such a natural,” Jack said. His voice was raspy, but functional.

A tightness squeezed Jack’s stomach when he examined his little half-brother. Throughout all the training that day, Ryan had excelled.

Ryan sighed. Tension released from his shoulders as he opened the cabin door. He paused. After a moment, Ryan held the door open for Jack. “My mom told me I was a half-blood when I was very little. She knew Apollo was a god, so she set me up with archery lessons as soon as I could pull back a bow. She was a pediatrician and let me play with all of her college text books.” He shrugged. “The other campers think I’ll surpass Chiron with a bow one day, and I’m already a better healer than Will, but I had a head start.”

This is was it! What Jack was supposed to be doing all day! Getting his new cabin mates to open up: about themselves, their feelings about being demigods, their opinions of their parents. For some reason, Jack didn’t feel better about the success. The tightness in his stomach squeezed until he felt his breath going short again. He wanted Ryan to shut up.

“You knew the monsters were real,” Jack said. He hadn’t realized that would be an option. He stepped inside.

“Well, yea, we all did,” Ryan said like it was obvious. The cabin door shut behind them. No one else was around. Ryan walked past the corner stacked with instruments to the medicine cabinet. He withdrew the lozenges and handed them to Jack.

Jack frowned, examining the packaging: ambrosia coated. Even with simple things like pain killers, he always checked ingredients in case they conflicted with his medication. Jack popped one in his mouth and bit down hard.

Everyone knew that you were supposed to suck on lozenges; but, Jack wanted a sharp sensation in his mouth. Cinnamon spiked his taste buds.

Ryan gave Jack a wary look. “Listen, Jack, maybe you’d be better off at home with your mortal family,” he said. “It’s not that we don’t want you here, I just don’t know if this is the safest place for you with this war brewing. Tomorrow, Summer Solstice, this camp might be about to explode, and you’re not really trained for combat yet…”

Ryan looked genuinely concerned. “We can loan you a weapon from the armory. Since you’ve made it so long without any help, I doubt your aura is that strong or ever will be strong enough to attract monsters. It’s not that we don’t want you here—or that Dad doesn’t want you here. I mean, he claimed you. That’s a big deal. It means he loves you and all, but—”

Jack bit down harder on the lozenge, wanting to crush it. He hadn’t been claimed.

“How soon were you claimed?” Jack interrupted. The twisting in his stomach kept getting tighter. He felt like he was on the cusp of something important and that something would make all the tension disappear. It had to do with what Ryan was saying, but he wanted the kid to stop talking.

“As soon as I stepped foot into camp,” Ryan said. He rocked onto his tiptoes, like he was getting impatient to go back outside. His gaze shifted back to the door as though the eye motion could shove Jack back out.

Jack hugged himself. “Apollo… Dad. You speak really highly of him.”

Ryan glanced at the door again, then back at Jack. He sighed, rolling back onto his heels. “Yea… I—I owe Dad. He’s kinda awesome.”

These campers seemed to know so much more about him. How could you say that a Dad you’ve never met was awesome? Had Ryan met him?

At Jack’s silence, Ryan got a sad smile on his face. “I guess I can tell you about it. My mom never fell in love after him. She said it was impossible after she had a full summer with him—”

A one night stand. A one night mistake, Jack remembered his mother assuring Steve about his conception, when Steven got nervous about the guy before him. They thought Jack hadn’t come downstairs for a nighttime snack. His Mom had never held that one night stand against Jack, had she?

“—so I was raised with my cousins like they were my siblings. My older cousin, Cindy, she was diagnosed with leukemia. Mom and I prayed to Apollo every night and I sang to her every night for a week. She… she got better. Way faster than medicine by itself should have allowed—”

The package slipped from Jack’s fingers.

The individually wrapped lozenges scattered across the cabin floor.

“Wow—you okay, dude? You look like you’re about to be sick,” Ryan said. The smile vanished from his face. He knelt down, plucking some lozenges from the ground.

Jack should have apologized. He should have knelt down to help. Normal for one day, echoed in his mind. The thought couldn’t penetrate his other ones. It couldn’t stop his hands from clutching at his hair.

What would it have been like? To grow up with a family that knew what was happening to him, to know he wasn’t crazy. Not to be medicated. Or outcast. No “you’re just confused, sweetie.” No, “All children are equal in the eyes of God.”

In that instance, Jack realized something. People treated life like it was a living thing that chose to be fair or unfair. It wasn’t. It just existed. People were made unequal. They would be treated unequal. These gods, their gods, played favorites.

“Ryan…” Jack whispered, trying not to hyperventilate. “You saved your cousin with your singing. Could you kill someone with your singing?”

His vision had tunneled. All Jack could see was the smaller boy, crouched under the instrument table, gathering a lozenge from a guitar. There were spare strings on the table. When Ryan put his hand on the table for balance, he knocked them to the side.

Then, Jack couldn’t see Ryan.

Shelby was the worst. Her body was sprawled in the middle of the hallway, on top of Charger, their German Sheppard. The other bodies—those Jack could easily pretend weren’t real. But, Shelby, had face-planted in a pool of her own vomit. The bile plastered her black hair around the wooden floor like a drowned victim’s hair splayed into a water halo… She was impossible to ignore. Jack had to carefully edge his way around her and Charger’s bodies, hoping the real one would show up and tell him to stop being silly, and terrified the real one would show up since they might increase his medication.

The day after they found his family, Jack had been too scared to tell Luke and Flynn why he thought their deaths were his fault.

He had been singing in the shower. He was thinking about how angry he was at his family while he sang. Then, they were dead, just like some of the patients at the hospital died as soon as he finished singing to them.

Why could Ryan save people, his loved ones, with his voice, when Jack could kill?

The pressure in Jack’s stomach made him feel like he’d throw up. That tension was wound so tightly, Jack knew it would snap. It was about to snap. He couldn’t stop—

“I guess, in theory,” Ryan said, beginning to rise from under the table, “I’ve never heard of someone—”

There was a loud thwack.

Jack didn’t know he’d cracked Ryan’s skull into the table. Not until the second time he did it. Ryan’s hair felt silky under his fingers. The head under his hand resisted the first time. Not so much the second.

Jack’s heartbeat thudded in his head, deafening. He didn’t hear the noises Ryan made. He didn’t feel Ryan’s head slip from his hands or how Ryan kicked backwards—how Jack’s leg gave out under the kick so Jack was level with the instrument table.

He saw Ryan’s mouth move, to sing to heal or call for help. Some autopilot took over, shut him up. Shut. Him. Up. We’ll make the two of us equal. We’ll play favorites the way that gods do.

A dull ache nagged at Jack’s knee, where he’d collapsed behind his little half-brother. He fumbled for something in the room to gag Ryan. His fingers snatched up something thin, metal, and pliable.

Jack didn’t remember shoving Ryan back to the floor; he must have. The intention was to wrap the guitar cord between Ryan’s teeth. Just to soften Ryan’s screams.

Then the metal cord pinched the skin around Ryan’s neck. The small kid bucked and thrashed. Ryan’s nails dug at metal. Those fingers fumbled backwards, swatting at Jack.

None of his attempts reached Jack. Jack’s knee now pressed into the small of Ryan’s back. The guitar cord was long enough that Jack could pull it taught at such a distance that Ryan couldn’t touch him.

The way Ryan squirmed, Jack’s own screams, the pain in his bruised knee as Jack simultaneously kneed the back of Ryan’s spine while jerking Ryan’s neck backwards: it felt distant, muffled.

Until someone covered Jack’s mouth.

“Be quiet!”

The words brought Jack back into reality. So did the hands that dragged him backwards.

“Holy Hera!” another familiar voice said.

There was a clop of hooves on the wooden floor.

Until that someone removed the hands from his mouth, Jack didn’t realize what he’d been screaming over and over.

Why does Dad love you more?

Ryan wasn’t moving.

Dad couldn’t love him now.

Jack trembled. He stared at his hands. Cuts lined his palms, where he had wrapped the guitar string to anchor them. Bruising would follow. His breath tightened. That tension inside him had snapped. He didn’t have any energy left. No anger. Just a sense of queer calm.

That same autopilot took control. Guilt nagged at his consciousness the same way pain nagged at his knee.

“No,” Jack said, “No—no. I—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”

“Shut up,” Luke repeated, slapping Jack upside the head. He sounded terrified.

Jack clutched at his hair. The strands felt slick with sweat. A sob caught his throat. What was happening to him? Had he just—

“Watch it, Luke.” Someone stepped around the two of them. Phil’s furry legs blocked off Jack’s view of Ryan’s body. “Flynn isn’t going to like it if she hears you’ve been smacking around her Jackie-boy. Now, let’s see. It’s been a long time since I needed to sneak a corpse out of a cabin. You sure like to keep me young and spry, don’t you, Jak-Jak?”

Phil’s comment was light.

No answer would come from Jack’s lips, at least, not beyond a whine.

Phil turned towards Jack and knelt down. Those dark eyes glittered with something that made Jack nauseous: compassion. He put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Kid, I need you with us. We gotta move fast. Which blanket won’t be missed if we wrap Ryan in it?”

*****

My betatester was very angry at me for the deficit of hugs and happiness for Jak-Jak. Don’t worry. Part II is more lighthearted. Okay, PHiL says it’s more lighthearted, though that guy could probably say that at a wax clown museum.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned next week for the last part of this short! I hope everyone had an awesome Halloween! :D

Footnote:

[1] I’m going to write this one day.

#Tales from Mount Othrys #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #luke castellan #jack #TFMO #PJO #HOO #fanfiction #Ryan #Will #Phil #Chiron #Malcom #All the characters for less than a second!#clarisse #I want to dress up as character Jack for Halloween....#Lemme go grab some electric base strings...#And a Pax... I'll need a spare Pax handy....

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panda-noosh · 6 years

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Hiraeth {part three} {demigod!Lance x reader}

Words: 6k

Summary: Your life changed forever that day in the forest. The day the voices got too much. The day that single word brought you to what felt like the very brink of death - that was until Lance McClain, son of Poseidon, arrived to take you home.

Genre: percyjackson!au - angst

Notes: part 1 - part 2 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8 - part 9 - epilogue -enjoy!!!

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Hiraeth - (n) a homesickness for a place you can’t return to, or that never was.

Chapter 3

If you were ignored and feared before the body of Coran was found, you may as well have been completely invisible now.

Nobody even spared you a glance. The atmosphere had changed entirely, a shift from simply ignoring you to downright hating you; people glared, people scattered whenever you so much as made an appearance; dinner was eaten in a tense silence amongst everyone, nobody brave enough to speak up about the heavy elephant in the room.

It was all consuming. You had never known a stress quite like it, never felt a loneliness quite like it.

Lance was there. As days slipped by, he reminded you on a daily basis that he didn't believe a word Lotor had said, that he had been with you for the majority of that special day and hadn't seen you do anything that looked even mildly suspicious; you had thanked him, but his presence didn't do much. You were still labelled as a murderer by many of the people who you were being forced to live with at the moment.

You hadn't trained with your powers after that first attempt with Lance. Something just felt off about conjuring up the dead from the ground only days after a dead body had been found; besides, the last thing you wanted was for Lotor to appear behind you again and claim you were practising another round of black magic.

And so, your days became boring. It got to the point where you woke up and dreaded the day ahead, and nothing had changed on this particular morning.

You awoke, got dressed, scraped a brush through your hair and headed outside. People were already training – as per usual, the Ares campers were bustling around the training square with swords and weaponry that was far too old for you to know what it was. They were yelling into the abyss, making a ruckus that didn't seem to bother anybody else. You walked past them, keeping your head down to avoid the stares of Lotor's siblings. You were most certainly not in any mood to argue with them today.

Out of all of the cabins, it was the Ares cabin who insisted on giving you the hardest time. Despite Chiron telling them, time and time again, that you were to be left alone, that the topic of Coran was to be left buried until he could pinpoint a direct suspect, the Ares cabin didn't listen. It looked as if they took pride in seeing the horror on your face as they spat words like “Murderer!” in your direction everywhere you went.

You searched for Lance, eventually finding him outside of the Poseidon cabin with a bow and arrow in his hands.

“Good morning,” he chirped cheerily when he heard you approaching. Sweat was glistening off of his collar bones and his forehead, making the tips of his brown hair hang down into his eyes.

“Morning,” you responded. “What are you doing?”

“Training.”

He pulled the bow string back and let an arrow fly. It crashed against the target set up in front of him and the target immediately burst into flames, disappeared into the ground and was replaced by a new one.

You stuffed your hands in your pockets and slumped against the wall. “Was breakfast any good this morning?”

“It was the usual,” he replied. “I still think you need to start coming to meals. Sneaking in after everyone's gone is just going to make you look suspicious.”

“More suspicious than I already look?”

Lance pursed his lips, shooting you a sorry look over his shoulder. “We're trying to fix that.”

“And it's not exactly going well,” you grumbled. You kicked at some dirt beneath your feet and sighed. “I just want to go home, Lance. I don't want to be here any more.”

“What do you mean?”

“Home.” You looked up. “Back to the forest you found me in. I want to go back there, and I want to stay there; I wasn't cut out for this whole demigod business.”

Lance seemed to have frozen at your words, one eyebrow slowly raising whilst his eyes widened. You stared at him in confusion – what had you said that he didn't understand?

“Your home was the forest?” he guffawed suddenly.

You slowly nodded. “Yes... I thought you knew that.”

“Of course I didn't!” Lance set his bow and arrow down and rushed to your side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders in that way he so often did. He tugged you into him as if he were an older brother comforting a younger sister, placing his sharp chin on the top of your head. “Why didn't you tell me? That's devastating, Y/N!”

You wiggled out of his grip, not pleased by the idea of somebody taking pity on you for something you had been dealing with your entire life. “It's fine. It wasn't that big of a deal.”

“It is to me,” Lance insisted. “Where were your family at? Did nobody call the police on the fact that there was a gods damned minor on the streets?”

“I don't know what happened,” you replied. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes, it does matter,” said Lance. “Is this whole thing with Coran getting to you so much that you're genuinely willing to go back to living on the streets?”

You pursed your lips, knew it sounded utterly ridiculous and oh-so-suspicious, but there was nothing else to it. You didn't want to be here any more, around these people who saw you as nothing more than some sick psychopath who didn't know how to control her powers.

“The streets aren't that bad,” you mumbled, though you knew you were lying almost as soon as the words crossed your lips. “I had control. That's all I want right now.”

Lance was staring at you as if you had just punched him in the face. His eyebrows were heavy over his blue eyes, his hands crossed in front of him and his head slightly tilted, as if wanting to get the best view of the sadness on your face at the moment.

“Did you – Did you have friends on the street?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I had an acquaintance. You learn not to trust people whenever you're homeless.”

“And this acquaintance has no idea where you are?”

You shook your head slowly.

Lance bit down on his bottom lip and shifted his gaze elsewhere, as if he was thinking. You watched him closely, feeling more and more awkward by the second – why did he want to know about Romelle? What could she possibly do that would effect anything that had been going on recently?

He looked up suddenly. “How about I take you to go and visit them, just to get your mind off of things?”

You very nearly choked on the air you were breathing.

Your eyes widened and you were shaking your head before you could even decipher why. You wanted to see Romelle, wanted to explain everything to her, but it would look so suspicious if you suddenly got up and left the camp with all these allegations behind you. Could you risk such a thing? Would Chiron understand? Would you leaving only entice the Ares cabin further?

“We can't do that,” you said. “Can you imagine how guilty we'll look leaving right now? They may as well convict me as soon as we walk through the gates!”

“You seem to be forgetting the little fact that you're innocent, Y/N. People can believe what they want, but once we get enough evidence gathered to find out who the real killer is, you're gonna be set free and everybody else is gonna feel stupid. We can do whatever we like until then.” Lance nodded to himself, as if confirming something in his own head. You continued to stare at him in shock, mouth open a little bit. He span on his heel, snatched up his bow and arrow and started practising again – he didn't dwell further on the plans, didn't give you even the slightest of hints as to why he would do such a thing.

That was what didn't make sense to you – why would he risk everything just to give you the chance to speak to the friend you had left behind? Why did he feel as if that was something you needed right now?

But you would be lying if you were to claim you hadn't missed Romelle just a tiny bit. For all that you claimed you and Romelle were merely acquaintances, it was no secret that you cared for her; leaving her behind with no explanation as to why or where you were going was something that had been gnawing at your subconscious for a while now.

Weirdly, the idea of Lance offering to take you to see her was enough to make your face flush bright red. Although you still thought it was a bad idea, you argued no further; you trusted him. You trusted him more than you had ever trusted anyone, because he was the one who had stayed by your side this entire time, the one who had helped you through the jeerings of your fellow camp mates, who had helped you come to terms with who you were.

This could only turn out bad in the end, you were aware. But slowly, you lowered yourself onto the floor, leaning your back against the Poseidon cabin, and watched Lance train, trying to block out that feeling of terror brewing in the pit of your stomach.

---

“Are you still convinced this is a good idea?” you hissed, keeping your voice to a whisper as you and Lance approached the door of Chiron's office.

Lance turned around, shot you a warning glare over his shoulder. You stuck your tongue out at him in response, causing him to roll his eyes and turn away. “Yes, I am positive. I've never been more positive about anything in my entire life.”

“That's a bit dramatic.”

“But it's true. Chiron's a good guy – he probably knows you're innocent, but he's just tending to the piss-baby Ares cabin.”

You bit down on your lip. You hadn't realised just how nervous you truly were until now, approaching the large, red double doors of Chiron's office, knowing what you were about to ask him, knowing just how badly this very request could backfire on you. You had put all of your trust into Lance for this one, allowed him to take the lead, and he seemed more than happy to do so. He walked with long strides, keeping his head held high whilst you stumbled behind him, your hands tangled in the back of his shirt to make sure you didn't lose him amongst the crowd of sneering campers, who were still looking at you like you were nothing more than scum.

Lance knocked three times on the red doors, stepped back, folded his arms over his chest and waited.

The door creaked open, and it was immediately as if every bit of Lance's confidence was drained out of him.

Suddenly he was stiffening beneath your grip, his back muscles flexing. His arms fell to his side, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, awkwardly glancing down at the floor. You raised a brow behind him – not so confident now, was he?

Although you couldn't blame him. What little confidence you had once possessed was immediately drained out of you whenever you looked up and saw Chiron standing in the doorway, curiously trailing his beady eyes over you and Lance.

Lance stepped back to reveal you to the centaur, awkwardly fumbling around in his attempts to shove you forward. You hissed, stumbling and just barely managing to catch yourself on the door frame before you fell head-first into Chiron's furry torso.

“Chiron! My man! You're awake!” started Lance. “You look so good this morning. Did you get a hoof shine?”

Chiron scraped at the floor with his hoof. “Is there a reason you've decided to disturb my readings, Mr McClain?”

Lance paled even further. “Actually – uh – yes, there is. A very important reason. 'Cause – you see – I know I'm your favourite demigod. You don't need to tell me. And because I'm your favourite, I think it's only polite for you to let me borrow the teleportation cloak for a few hours.”

He said this all very fast, not once looking up from the ground. He even winced after his sentence was over, as if realising just how odd his request had sounded.

Chiron was silent for a few seconds, glancing between you and Lance with a curious expression on his face. You wanted nothing more than to burst out and say “April Fools!” and run off before things got any worse; he was surely looking at you in suspicion now. There was no way in hell he thought you were innocent now that you and Lance had made it clear you were planning on leaving the camp.

Chiron whinnied before he started speaking again. “The teleportation cloak is only used whenever a demigod wants to leave the camp.”

Lance mumbled. “Yep. That's the one.”

“And why would you want to leave the camp, Mr McClain? Is there an errand you need to run?”

You stiffened, shooting Lance a panicked glare, silently trying to tell him to just back out now, to not drag this out any further.

But Lance looked up then and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “I was going to take Y/N to see somebody she left behind whenever she came to Camp Half-Blood. Her friend doesn't even know where she went.”

Chiron's eyes shot to you. You instinctively curled a little closer to Lance, one of your hands winding around his middle and clenching the fabric of his shirt.

“This does look very suspicious. You both can understand why I'm a little hesitant,” said Chiron, refusing to look away from you as he spoke. You felt as if you were being scolded by a headmaster.

“We – We know that,” said Lance. “But we also know that Y/N is innocent and the claims that she murdered Coran are absolutely ridiculous and are only backed up by the fact that her dad is the god of the Underworld.”

You hissed. “Can we not say that so loudly please?”

Lance and Chiron ignored you.

“Don't tell me you actually believed a word Lotor said,” said Lance. “That guy feeds off of throwing other people under the bus – especially people who he knows are stronger than him.”

“I'm not stronger than him,” you protested. “I don't even know how to work my powers! I've never even lifted a sword in my life! I'm not a threat.”

“Tell Lotor that,” Chiron grumbled thoughtfully. He inhaled deeply, folded his arms over his chest and shook his head, as if he couldn't believe what he was about to do. “Fine. I will give you the teleportation cloak, but I want you both back by the time it gets dark. And if there's any trouble at all, you do not draw attention, and you do not kill. You just throw the cloak over one another as soon as possible, and you get out of there. Do you understand?”

Lance was grinning. “Yes, we understand. Thank you.” ----

Being back brought more bad memories than you were hoping for.

You hadn't even been gone for that long – two weeks? You had lost count. As you stepped out from beneath the transportation cloak, now exposed to a completely different surrounding, you felt as if time truly did work different over at Camp Half-Blood than it did here.

It was an odd feeling. Once being surrounded by people who could eat whenever they wanted, could sleep in soft beds every single night with not a fear in the world about whether or not somebody was going to slit their throat in their sleep, to suddenly appearing in a place that was the complete opposite of that.

Your home.

The trees surrounded you, whispered your name. Lance was silent at the side of you, too busy trying to fold up the pesky cloak than anything else; he didn't seem bothered by the sudden scenery change, didn't seem to understand just how much weight this place held, just how much it was affecting you being back.

You remembered sleeping under those very brambles, remembered pressing your head into the floor as a headache slammed through your body. You remembered the comfort this very place brought you, the alone time it allowed you to have at your worst points.

And the entire time, you had godly blood running through your veins, and you hadn't even known.

Lance finally groaned in frustration and ended up simply wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. “We can deal with that later.” He walked up to the side of you, now gazing up at the trees which surrounded you. “This place is nice.”

You nodded. “Not a good place to sleep, though.”

“No, I wouldn't think so.” Lance took your hand in his own and started tugging you towards the tree line, an impatient hop in his step. He had been telling you all day that he was excited to meet Romelle, that he had been curious as to who she was – you had mistakenly told him that she had basically been the person who had raised you, taught you how to read and write whenever education was so far out of your reach. Lance had very clearly found some type of respect for her, even though he had never met her before.

The two of you broke through the tree line and started walking towards the nearby homeless shelter where you knew Romelle would be; she only ever really left the confines of the safe house whenever she needed to use the toilet in the off-licence across the street. The toilets at the homeless shelter didn't have hot water and were very rarely empty.

“Some people might be a little violent,” you informed Lance as the two of you walked. “It's best if you just keep your head down and don't talk to anyone you don't know.”

Lance raised a brow. “If I kept my head down and ignored people I didn't know, I would never have met you.”

“It's your own fault you got stuck with me,” you scoffed.

“Ay, I never said meeting you was a bad thing. I've enjoyed your presence these past few weeks – even with all the drama you bring.” He nudged your elbow. You looked up at him to see him softly smiling down at you, confirming to you that he was only joking. It warmed your heart. He didn't see you as a killer. He truly saw you as a friend.

You and Lance continued walking until you eventually came upon the building you were oh-so-familiar with. Though you hadn't slept within its walls, you had spent a good portion of your time there, talking with Romelle and hiding away from the rain that so often pelted the streets outside.

You turned, opened the door, and was immediately met by the blast of chatter which always rang out from this place; Lance genuinely gasped, gripping your arm in shock.

You nodded in response to his silent question – yes, there truly were this many homeless people around.

You led Lance into the large hall, nodding to the different people who were looking at you strangely – they all recognised you, of course. You had spent every day here for the majority of your life. But at one point, you had walked through them doors wearing ripped jeans and a shirt that was getting too small for you and was always stained with some other new substance that nobody questioned. Now, you were wearing your Camp Half-Blood gear, and you didn't have dirt streaked across your skin.

You pulled your jacket tighter around your body and zipped it up, instinctively trying to ruffle it up a little bit just to make yourself look more messy. Lance didn't seem to understand why you were doing such a thing, as he glanced at you in confusion and didn't follow your example.

Eventually, you approached Spark, a man you had spoken to on multiple occasions who you knew was quite close to Romelle. He had his hand stuck inside of a box of cornflakes. He didn't seem the slightest bit shocked to see you.

“Spark,” you said. “How's things going?”

He popped a cornflake into his mouth and shrugged lazily. “Same old, same old.”

He never was one for speaking. You didn't mind.

“Is Romelle around?” you asked.

Again, Spark shrugged. “Last I checked, she was out looking for you. That's what she has been doing for the past two weeks.”

Your face fell, stomach clenching with guilt – you knew it wasn't your fault that you had disappeared. You had been taken away, had learned the truth about who you were and where you were from. Surely Romelle would understand why it had taken you so long to come back?

“She thought you were dead, you know,” Spark continued, popping more cornflakes into his mouth. “Had her bawling into my side a few nights ago, trying to comfort the little thing. Never seen her look so distraught.”

“Is she coming back any time soon?” you asked, trying to keep the waver out of your voice.

Spark did his signature shrug. “I hope so. She's the one who got me these cornflakes and I haven't even thanked her for it.” He sighed to himself, popped more cereal into his mouth before he waved his hand in dismissal. “Now get out of my face. You smell like soap.”

You hollowed out your cheeks, span on your heel and led Lance back out of the front doors. Lance was glancing at you with a worried expression, as if convinced you would start lashing out at the news that Romelle wasn't around – you felt like you could. It was brewing in the pit of your stomach, this unexplainable sense of anger. It didn't make sense – she was looking for you. You shouldn't have felt angry, but you couldn't help it.

You ran a hand through your hair and groaned. “We should have come earlier than this.”

“In case you forgot, you were the one who thought leaving camp would get you the guilty verdict,” said Lance.

“She's out there somewhere, Lance,” you hissed, whirling on him. His blue eyes widened at the sudden movement, and it took everything in you to reel back your anger. “She's out there looking for me, risking her life whenever I've been better off than her for the past two weeks.”

“We can't help that,” said Lance. “Look, we'll find her, alright? We'll find her, you two can talk and you can tell her everything that's been going on-”

“What, tell her that I'm half god?” you spat. “She'll think I've gone crazy.”

“I'll be there to back you up.”

“She won't take your word for it. She'll think you're crazy, as well.”

Lance hollowed out his cheeks. “Alright, we'll take it one step at a time then, won't we? You just need to calm down and-”

“Being out in the woods on your own is dangerous,” you said, ignoring him completely. Your brain was too far gone at this point, a wild sense of horror dawning upon you; this was why you hated getting close to people – it always, somehow, managed to get messed up and it left you feeling as if it was entirely your fault, as if you were the reason everyone was suffering.

And maybe you were. Maybe this time you were the reason behind it. If anything happened to Romelle, it would be entirely your fault.

“We'll go looking for her,” Lance said. “Just take a deep breath, okay? We're not gonna get very far if you're having a panic attack every few feet.”

You clenched your eyes shut, biting down on your bottom lip. He was right. Of course he was right. There wasn't a single thing you would be able to do if you couldn't control your anger and panic first.

You looked into Lance's eyes. He was directly in front of you, one hand on your shoulder. He had a skill with keeping eye contact, and those baby blue eyes of his had a skill of calming people down.

You inhaled deeply, Lance nodding along to every breath as if you were a woman in labour.

“Good. You're good. Everything is alright.”

But everything was not alright.

Especially not whenever the scream sounded out above the trees, shattering any illusion of peace you had once gathered.

You jerked up. Lance did the same, his face dropping. You had that human moment of hesitation, but Lance had no such thing. He was throwing the transportation cloak off of his shoulders and jumping down the hill into the forest, chasing the scream.

You were following him in a matter of seconds, even though every instinct was telling you to stop, to think this through, to evaluate your strengths and realise that you would be doing nothing more than getting in the way of things. But your feet carried you anyway, almost against your will, and soon, you and Lance were skidding into a random clearing.

Romelle was there.

Something else was there.

Something large. Massive. It's head very nearly poked out above the trees. It had the body of a human, the head of a human, but it couldn't possibly be human, could it? It only had one eye, wearing a shirt that was ripped to shreds with a pair of shorts that looked as if they had once covered every bit of its tanned, scarred skin.

“A Cyclops,” Lance yelled out. “Get Romelle! Grab her, now!”

You cried out, pushing yourself forward and running towards your friend. Lance was facing the Cyclops as if he had done this entire thing before, his arms outstretched before him. The Cyclops roared, brought his massive hands down against the ground; the entire forest seemed to shake, and you struggled to believe that no human beings on the other side of the fence couldn't hear it.

You skidded to Romelle's side and grabbed her; she was unconscious. Blood was dribbling from her eyebrow, dripping down into her closed eye, tangling itself in her eyelashes. You groaned out, lifted her head onto your knee.

“Come on, Romelle,” you hissed as the Cyclops took another swing for Lance. He dove out of the way, landing with a grunt against the root of a tree. “Come on.”

“I only hear rumours!” the Cyclops suddenly yelled out. He was so loud that his voice caused a gust of wind to slam into you, your hair flowing out behind you. “The gods be very secretive when talking about the princess of the Underworld, but now I knows the truth! She right in front of me!”

“Y/N!” Lance screamed. His eyes were wide, and when you looked over at him, he was flapping his hands desperately. “Get out of the way! He recognises you! Get out of -”

Lance's voice was cut off by a gigantic fist slamming into the ground beside you. If it hadn't been for your quick reflexes and the fact that you just barely managed to scramble out of the way, the dirt and the earth that spewed up would have cut you.

Lance was trying to stand up on the far side of the forest, but every time he tried to move, he fell back down. You saw the blood dripping from his leg, could see the bone sticking out of his calve that was a clear sign something had been broken.

You grabbed Romelle's shoulders and dragged her as far as you could. The Cyclops was stronger than you, but it was also a good twelve feet tall, meaning it didn't move very fast. One hit was thrown, and it took him multiple seconds to gain the momentum to strike again – seconds you used to your advantage as much as possible, hauling ass across the clearing with your friend dragging in front of you.

“Princess of the Underworld, just like her daddy!” the Cyclops yelled out. “Souls attracted to her. Death attracted to her. Everyone afraid of her!”

You tried to block out his words.

You dodged another hit as he slammed his fist down on the ground beside you. It didn't seem as if he wanted to hit you – that, or else he truly couldn't see you well enough to get good enough aim. He only had one eye, and you were much, much smaller than him, meaning he probably couldn't see you all that well anyway.

Nonetheless, the earth that was breaking beneath you was doing enough damage on its own. Stones clashed against your skin as they erupted from the ground, slamming into your arms and legs and ripping the skin open. You could feel the blood trickling down your body, but the pain was bearable. Nothing had broken yet, and you were still standing.

Eventually, you managed to drag Romelle to the edge of the clearing. You jumped up then, stumbling due to your injuries, but you were on your feet and that was all that mattered.

Lance was screaming his warmings at you from across the clearing, but you paid him no attention. You looked up at the Cyclops that was currently raging in front of you, and you told yourself that this was what you were made for; you had godly blood in your veins, you had powers that some mortals wouldn't even be able to comprehend; you couldn't run away from this. You couldn't put dishonour on your dads side of the family by running away.

And so, you stood in front of the Cyclops and yelled.

“Are you scared, huh? Scared of the princess? Is that why none of your blows have been able to hit me yet?”

The Cyclops roared, brought his fist down. You sprinted to the left, throwing yourself towards the roots of a tree and hugging them close, keeping your head buried in your elbow to avoid the shrapnel.

The Cyclops was back on you with a moments notice. He swung around, this time slamming his fist into the tree you were gripping. The roots broke free of the dirt, lifting you up for a second before you rolled over and let yourself drop back onto the ground. You grunted, stood up as quick as your injuries would allow, and ran around to the other side of the monster.

He followed you with his one eye.

“I speak to Hades before this,” the Cyclops said, and your insides ran cold. “He tells me that he wanted to kill you when you were first brought into the world but your mummy wouldn't allow it. But even she couldn't handle you eventually – even she didn't want you!”

The anger speared through you before you could stop it.

You let out a cry as a jolt ran through your body, a jolt so strong that you stumbled forward and crashed to your knees in the dirt. All around you, the world was lifting. The earth was rising around you, the cracks in the dirt opening even wider to allow the skeletal white hands to emerge from beneath it.

You watched on in absolute horror, unable to explain what had just happened or why it had happened, but it was happening. Skeletons were crawling out of the ground all around you, some of them missing bones, some of them fully-intact skeletons that walked with a confidence that made no sense to you whatsoever.

The skeletons wasted no time.

The next time the Cyclops brought his fist down, a group of them immediately jolted forward and grabbed a hold of his knuckles. The Cyclops roared in anger, trying to swing his hand back but being unable to do so; skeletons were running up his arm as the others held his fist into the ground, keeping him keeled over.

The skeletons that had made their way up the Cyclops' arm reached his shoulders, the side of his face – were they taunting him? You couldn't see, couldn't hear anything over the sound of the Cyclops' yelling.

And then one of the skeletons slammed their bony hand through the Cyclops' ear, and the Cyclops was dead in seconds.

There was no scream of pain, no thrashing about as he tried to get free – he genuinely just fell still, completely paralysed. You scrambled away as he fell to the floor, the skeletons scattering off of him. As soon as their feet hit the floor, they perished into a pile of bones.

It all went quiet. You could only hear the sound of your breathing, the thumping of your heart in your chest.

No way.

That wasn't you. You hadn't made that happen. You weren't strong enough to do that.

“Y/N,” Lance called out, sounding weak. You slowly turned to look at him, propped up on your elbows because you truly couldn't find the strength to sit up fully.

Lance was still laid out on the other side of the clearing, his leg still spewing blood and his bone still sticking out from his flesh. You swallowed thickly, made your way over to him with what little strength you could muster.

“Chiron is going to kill us,” croaked Lance, letting his head fall back against your shoulder as you sat behind him and started putting pressure to his wound.

You didn't say anything back to him. Your body was still ringing with the aftershock of what you had just witnessed.

What you had just made happen.

----

You had never been inside of the infirmary before.

You had hoped you would never need to head to the infirmary, and technically speaking, you didn't. You weren't injured as badly as Lance was; a few bandages wrapped around you and you would be fine in a matter of days. But Lance had fallen unconscious after you had wrapped the teleportation cloak around him, and had not woken up since.

You sat by his bedside, watching the Apollo campers work on his leg. They had told you to leave, but you had asked if you could stay and they were too afraid to say no.

They had managed to fix the bone up with a type of magic you didn't recognise, and were now busy putting the skin back together.

Lance hadn't stirred once.

“Do you think he'll live?” you asked.

The girl that was tending to his leg looked up at you. Blood smeared her forehead from where she had wiped her hand across it, and her hands were drenched in the same stuff. “The damage wasn't life-threatening. As soon as we got the bleeding under control, he was basically guaranteed to live. But the shock of it all will keep him down for a few more hours. It's probably best if you go back to your cabin and get some rest of your own, or else those wounds on your body will just get worse.”

You pursed your lips, nodded and left the infirmary. It was night time now, campers either sitting around campfires or getting ready for bed. All of them seemed oddly sombre, the news of what had happened settling over them to the point where they were even willing to feel a little bit bad for you – Hunk and Pidge gave you small smiles, and Shiro even went as far as to pat you on the back and ask if you were okay.

For all the complaining you had done about being lonely, now that people were beginning to acknowledge you, you suddenly craved for it all to stop.

Because you remembered the skeletons crawling out of the ground. You remembered them attacking that Cyclops – killing it – purely under your control. There was no other explanation for it, and you had been a fool for once believing that perhaps something else had happened.

Romelle hadn't been able to come back with you, and Chiron had ordered you to not risk trying to speak to her again. She was being tended to by some fairies that Chiron had sent over to her, but after they were done healing her, she wouldn't remember a thing that had happened – she wouldn't remember the Cyclops, would go on believing that you had been kidnapped or murdered – you weren't allowed to tell her where you were.

Basically, Chiron had forced you to cut all contact with your only living friend, and it was entirely your fault.

You walked to the Hades cabin and slumped down in your bed, tugging the covers up over your head. You could hear the remainder of the Apollo cabin singing a song around a campfire, one of them playing the harp softly. It was peaceful, but you didn't want to hear it right now. You just wanted to sleep, wanted to wipe your head free of any and all thoughts about what had happened only hours before.

You would talk to Lance about it when he woke up. Lance always had a strange way of helping you understand what was going on.

As you rolled over and closed your eyes, ready to welcome the sweet embrace of sleep, a voice whispered gravelly in your ear - “Princess of the Underworld.”

119 notes · View notes

peachiejihoonie · 7 years

Text

park woojin - demigod!au; hermes

when he was younger, he was a master at pick pocketing

in middle school, he wouldn’t stand up for kid being bullied but rather go to the bully and pick pocket back the lunch money

he wouldn’t really hand back to them, he’d just put it on their desk, underneath their pencil bag or inside it

constantly transferred schools too, which meant constant new encounters, and he hated it

he was sick of change, he just wanted something permanent

one friend, one home, one school, one setting

he was always alone since he just kept leaving

so when he made it to camp half blood, he was shook

he wasn’t used to the atmosphere but he was immediately claimed by hermes

he was quickly engulfed by a crowd, his siblings and they were are all so jolly, happy, snarky but also welcoming

at first he was really reserved and shy but when head counselor taehyun introduced him to everyone, he was overjoyed

overtime he came out his shell

he was the master mind of plastic wrapping all the chariots together

is known for being very mischievous and silly

very bro

is the type to blame it on someone else

works half of time cause he’s good at playing innocent

“woojin it was you wasn’t it”

“what? me? why would i ever? no way!!!”

honestly, he does it for shits and giggles and never has intentions to ever hurt or anger someone

he’s really good at hand to hand combat (aka flipping people)

he carries around a simple celestial bronze knife but rarely uses it

is really talented

raps and dances he’s pretty cool my dude

the apollo cabin doesn’t really see him as all that talented though they’re to busy thinking they’re better than everyone else

you on the other hand, were constantly getting kicked out of schools because of your “problematic” behavior

it wasn’t your fault that people always listened to whatever you said

even if you had asked to cut in lines, get a’s or to skip class, it’s their fault for listening to you

at camp half blood, you were known to be quite fiery

it was hard for anyone to believe you were an aphrodite child honestly

you stand for what u believe in, you’re straight forward, and you have no problem with casting permanent make up on anyone

one time, at the dining hall, someone tried to mess with your sibling’s food by placing a magnetic force around it so the food can never sit on the plate

you immediately flung around to the giggling hermes cabin

and this time woojin was out of the loop he doesn’t commit such petty pranks uhm hello??

“okay who did it?” you glared at all of them, honestly this happens everyday and normally you’d ignore it but honestly it was gettin out of hand

“WOOJIN!” a hermes cabin kid screamed

and everyone snickered

he’s just there with a piece of bread of his mouth, puppy dog eyes, lost, looking up you

“huh?”

and you glared at the one who yelled his name and you casted the permanent make up on him and everyone else who laughed got ugly outfits with neon colors

and all the other tables are doing obnoxious ‘OOoooOOOOoooooOOOOOOOooooooOOoOOH shiTTTTTT”

the hermes kids now think you have a bratty princess attitude

but did you care????????

and the next time woojin sees you, he kinda wavers around you, and you don’t recognize him at first

as you’re setting up your weapons for capture the flag (i love ctp okay im sorry if your’e sick of it omg) he just opens his mouth

“sorry about my brothers and sisters yesterday…”

at first you were like ??? oooOOOOHHH

“hahahahHAHAHA no its no probleM!!”

are you nervous ?? is he that cute ?? is it just me omg

he’s a little flustered, mainly cause he just feels bad

may or may not have avoided playing pranks on you or just the entire aphordite cabin tbh

he was gonna say something again but chiron calls for the teams to shake hands and you two are on different teams

and so you had the found the flag, but your back up was taking forever

no one was on guard though, and the flag was just out and exposed in the creek

you wanted to go for it, seriously, your blood was chasing through your veins, it was getting hard to hold your back you impulsiveness.

and suddenly there was cheering behind you

and when you walked out of your hiding spot, you saw woojin being thrown in the air,

your team flag in his hand

and you were chill, i mean it wasn’t the first time you lost

but what really bugged you was when hermes cabin wouldn’t stop reminding you

this happened almost every time you lose

and when you’re in greek history class, they were just at and you were trying so hard not to explode

and just when you’re about to, woojin clears his through

“hyungs, please shut the fuck up, i’m trying to read here”

everyone is shooketh

cause he isn’t that straight forward and he’s normally a witness rather an unpstander

after class you thank him and he just shrugs it off like no big deal

inside he’s all squishy and warm cause aw you thanked him ?? you thank people ???

and you’re blushy because aw he cared ??

and tbh you guys stay in this weird phase for a while

very small talk, short glances

but nothing more

it was awkward for the both of you

it was the first time to feel this warm in the inside

you both knew there was something more there

there’s no way you two are just friends

ya’ll both squishes for each other

but you’re both convinced otherwise

all of woojin’s siblings tell him to not for fall an aphordite kid

they tried to convince him that he was just falling for your stupid but blessed love charms and looks

“they’re all heart breakers !! don’t know you know about their little game”

yea, your cabin loved doing this point system thing

each time they “won” a person, a point

and whoever got the least amount of points got the shoes of shame

you H A T E D it

you’re cabin was trying to explain to you that you weren’t falling for some “disgusting, annoying dumb, hermes kid”

“no way !!! you have to date one of the hot apollo kids, or the ares kids, but cMON, not a hermes kid. don’t be silly!”

and it just makes you want woojin more

he started getting bolder though

but hes still shy

your little talks became conversations, you glances became eye contact

then the conversations would last through the lunches and he would even walk you to your next activity or back to the cabin

his eyes not only lingered but he would also flash his cute little canine at you or even make silly faces when chiron is teaching

and you were complaining about your cabin with him one day during your shared free hour together

“i just don’t understand them at times, i really don’t think i fit in that cabin a at all”

“well i think you do”

you’re laughing as you look over at him but he aint laughin

“i think you fit in that cabin perfectly. you’re really genuine, kind to everyone but you’re definitely not a push over. you know that the inside personality is what is important, not the outside. everyone thinks that you’re just being mean, but i think it’s because you base your attitude on personality.”

and at first his explanation doesn’t make sense

he thought he was being weird and he freaks out

“oh my go-god,i-uh- i ig-ignore what i just said hah ha ha hahahah” he would utter out, redfaced and looking away

“no please explain what you mean woojin” and you place your hand on his shoulder

“i-it’s just like how your siblings are with looks! not to say that they’re aLL vain!! i-i i mean li-like if they’re ‘ugly’ they would kin-kinda isolate them ya know?? and when they’re pretty they date them. you’re kinda the same, but with per-personality.”

you’re speechless and his eyes are glued to the grass

“y-you just share beauty in a different way, that’s all, and i like that, a lot” he chuckles as he palms his neck nervously

“t-thanks” you mumbled out and he’s grinning to himself cause you’re so cute

and the feelings are just floating in the air

since he’s all shy and awkward and doesn’t know what to do

“i like you too” you smiled back

and yall slowly and slowly become more comfortable

you like watching him pick out the food you don’t like in your pasta

honestly he’s the cutest when he eats

his checks are puffed out and you can see the way he’s chewing and he’s just fluffy omg

and he would catch you staring and have his confused mouse face

how could you not want to feed him at that point

but slowly he would start getting flirtier and flirtier

he would run up to you and wrap his arms from behind

omg imagine his cabin is so surprised and they cannot believe he swooped an aphordite child

“brurhruhrhruhr you hella scored omg hooow???”

“well i mean, i just told them i liked them ?? and they happened to like me back ??” and he’s blushing, lookin down and a small grin on his face

they all watch you both in amazed

like you guys are laughing and smiling, arms linked, walking towards the mess hall and they’re just watching all wide eyed and jaws dropped

“that’s so unfair” they’d all pout

he secretly enjoys them being jealous

imagine him look all aggressive and hot while playing capture the flag

you can’t even play properly ???? how can you function ????

like you’re suppose to be his back up but you’re so distracted

you’re teammates know to never put you guys in the same team/group ever again

but he doesn’t realize you’re distracted by him,

he’s all sweaty and puppy like comin to you

“babe are you sick ?? are you tired ??? you don’t look okay ..”

“nO woojin i’m fine hahahha!!! don’t worry !!!” awkward laughter

“ookay..” is still slightly worried

the next day he comes by with cookies and he’s such a nervous mess cause omg your sibling opened the door

ya’ll exposed af, all you’re siblings are watching the gesture

and you slam the door on their face LOL

“woojin what are you doing ??”

“i was just worried, and i knew you liked jinyoung’s cookies so i got some for you cause you didn’t look well yesterday” and he’s all flustered

one hand in the pocket, the other palming the back of his neck nervously

he’s such a pup omg help the cutie out

but all you could do is stutter a thanks out

your siblings on the other side are just giggling

jihoon, your half brother thinks you two are disgusting

especially cause 2park is lyfe and you don’t in 2park

but overall, he’s very sweet and loving

he maybe shy at times even though he’s wild with his siblings

it’s just cause you make him nervous

you guys prove stereotypes wrong and people lOVE it

i’m so sorry this took so long lmao, thanks 4 waiting !!! esp the anon who asked for woojin a long long time ago

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