was trying to angst about orv but then I remembered that several gods and goddesses participated in shipwar culture

Astral Convergence | #2

Friendship ended with From The Mouths With No Tongue. Astral Convergence is my new best friend.

jk but I am taking a break from From The Mouths because I walked myself into a corner and could feel my joy draining whenever I opened the document to keep writing. I am making damage prevention changes to the world of From The Mouths and hopefully when I start writing again I won’t feel like jumping off a cliff.

SO INSTEAD WE ARE DOING THIS. We are finishing my NaNoWriMo 2019 project: Astral Convergence (if you couldn’t tell by the title). In update #1 you can see the wip introduction and you go far back in the tag you can see how NaNo went (which was not Great). 

My first order of business was read through the four and a half chapters I had already written and do some editing. It wasn’t that big of an edit. I rewrote a few lines and deleted others, the result is pretty sharp and I am ready to finish chapter five and continue.

You should know I am a pantser so we are gonna figure this book out together ♡ 

Songs to listen while writing: all of Halsey’s discography

What’s been going on so far to catch you up to speed:

Seven years ago, Apollo and Artemis left Olympus because they were tired of living under the same roof as Zeus (plus a few other factors but really who would want to live under the same roof as Zeus).

They have to go back because people want Zeus dead, Io is the one who delivers the message.

Olympus is empty except for Zeus, Hera and two of the nine Muses

Artemis has two wolfdogs named Moonflower and Selene (first moon goddess reference whoop!).

Apollo and Artemis have Baggage because I chose the version of Orion’s death where Apollo tricked Artemis into shooting him.

The gods are still gods but they were “born” in a more modern era. Save for all those primordial beings like Chaos, Tartarus, Gaea and Nyx and the likes. They have been around a while. Artemis and Apollo are one of the youngest gods, along with Dionysus and Hermes and Persephone, they have been around for long enough to have a hold of their various domains but not enough for divinity to really feel real almost as if it were temporary — which is a big thing with Artemis. The best way I can describe is like knowing you are an adult and doing adult things but there are... adultier adults.

Orpheus is in this book!! It was a last minute decision that added some extra drama and Hadestown (2019) is to thank for it. As a son of Apollo and the muse Calliope, one of the tow Muses still in Olympus, we have some extra spice with Apollo starting to act like Zeus. Orpheus is seven years old, a certified baby and Auntie Artemis loves him very much.

Hera doesn’t like Apollo and Artemis a whole lot.

Bonus indulgence for 13yo Pía: the background relationship of the muse Clio and the guard of Zeus Kratos. See, I joined this greek gods rpg i  like 2013 and I played Clio and she domino effect-ed into a relationship with the god of power Kratos and I really ship them but they are the kind of ship with 0 fanfic on AO3... so I have to write it myself.

I have already decided when Zeus is gonna die.

Okay. So. Excerpts time??

“Arty,” you whisper.

I look at you from over Io’s curls. In the orange light coming through the flimsy curtains, you are outlined but you don’t shine as you do with the golden light of sun. The only thing divine about you is the way your eyes catch that orange light and glare like sunlight and cat eyes. You’ve told me mine do the same in silver, but I am already plenty divine at night — part woman, part goddess, part a sharp knife and a smoothed bullet, part wild animal. You are the same during the day, explosive and striking and warm.

“Yeah?”

“How… ?” You let the word hang as if wanting to add more, but you don’t. That is enough, encompasses all that could come after.

“We’ll find a way,” and that answers all the possible questions. “Does your oracle tell you anything?”

You scoff. I smile.

“Nothing when I’m sober.” The springs of the bed creak. “Why do you think Hera changed her mind?”

“Guess we can ask her when we go back to Olympus.”

“One new rule,” I tell Selene and Moonflower. “There’s this Hind with golden antlers you cannot hurt, she is the one animal completely off-limits.”

I don’t know if my dogs would be able to hurt her, fast as she is, but I don’t want to risk it. The line I walk between holding nature to my breast like a nursing mother and digging a knife into its stomach is a fine and delicate one. I am part of the Hind’s herd like I am of Selene and Moonflower’s pack. I am part prey, part predator.

I do bare my teeth, the canines have always been far sharper than what I’ve seen on other gods and other mortals.

Above us, in the night sky, is Orion. Hunting endlessly among the stars.

“I’m not like Zeus, alright?” you say, voice sharp.

For everyone there are consequences to questioning a god, for insulting them, for assuming something wrong. Even for other gods at their level. You don’t scare me, brother. No matter how much power or authority or how much brighter you might shine. Infect me with a plague or put a bullet through my head, I’ll bite your throat before you are even close enough.

That is all for now! 

Cheers, Pía

Not Over Yet - Chapter 1: A New Pantheon

If anyone is interested, I decided to redo this story, it is currently published under my account on fanfiction.net (kadmeread) there as well. But I thought I might publish this new version on here and AO3 (same username again) as well to hopefully get it out there. Please let me know what you think!

So this story is a PJO/HOO/TOA crossed over with MCGA. Set after Burning Maze and during Ship of the Dead. Basically the summary goes along the lines of; Jason's confused. Where the hell is he? This isn't Elysium...and there are Norse gods now?

Chapter 1: A New Pantheon

So I finally did it, I died. Now I’ve been close to dying before, I’ve even actually died for a minute, but I never expected to go so soon. When I did go I expected to wake up in the Underworld, on my way to be judged. I would hope that I would get judged worthy of Elysium, but it's hard to tell sometimes. Anyway, I did not expect to be holding the hand of a girl riding what looked like a venti. As I started to show signs of being awake she dropped me on this lawn. It was connected to this really large building, like Olympus sized. As I was looking around, the doors opened and I was addressed.

“Ahh, you’re early, oh well come on in Mr Grace.”

The guy who spoke had on a doorman’s uniform, but the rest of him contradicted the welcoming look. He had a distinctly viking like look, with the wild hair and beard. He had a large double bladed axe at this side and his hand hovered over it threateningly. I decided it would probably be the best idea to do what he said as I still wasn’t even sure if I was dead.

As I walked towards him I noticed the lack of pain, in theory I shouldn’t have even been able to walk, even if I had survived. But I couldn’t even feel any of the various wounds I knew I had gotten. When I looked down at myself I saw no sign of the wounds, I also noted that I was in my Camp Jupiter t-shirt, and IVLIVS was in my jeans pocket. I thought this was odd as I knew I had been using it when I died.

The doorman looked at me impatiently, “Well hurry it up,” he said. “You can’t hang out over there all day, we have other new arrivals expected after all.”

I sped up slightly and tried to work pout what exactly had actually happened. I had been fighting Caligula…Piper and Meg and Apollo had been there fighting with me…Oh gods, the Sybil’s prophecy…it had come true...I had died, I was now dead. I felt the weight of this realisation settle upon me. If I was dead then…

“Where am I?” I demanded. I was confident that this wasn’t any part of the Greco-Roman Underworld. Between Percy, and Nico, and Annabeth, and Hazel, and even Thalia, I knew what it all looked and felt like and smelt like. It was kind of sad that most of my friends could describe the entire Underworld to me like going there was an everyday thing.

The guy’s eyes softened, I really needed to get a name for him.

“All in good time lad,” he said, “For now let’s get you checked in.” He put a hand on my back and guided me in.

The foyer was larger than I expected considering the outside appearance, sure the building seemed tall, but large? Nope. I was no architecture expert like Annabeth, but I was pretty confident that it was physically impossible for the foyer to be this big without magic. The walls were covered in polished Viking shields, the floor almost reminded me of how Percy had described Diana’s tent; (that was a story, he was the only man to have gained her respect in centuries) covered in the pelts of various animals, including what appeared to be a dragon skin. On the right wall a large hearth crackled, I bowed my head towards it, Vesta probably wasn’t there but you never know, and she would always have my respect. There were pictures and statues of wolves scattered around the room, which I greatly appreciated, wolves always did make me feel at home after being raised by Lupa.

I found what appeared to be a reception desk and headed over there. Another guy who unless my dyslexia was acting up was called Helgi said “Welcome to Hotel Valhalla, here is your room key, it’s a suite.”

I had no idea what was going on so I decided the best idea was to ask this guy. “Ah...thanks, I guess? Where am I? This isn;t part of the Underworld is it?”

Helgi’s eyes crinkled “No, you are now in Valhalla, the home of the valiant warriors who shall fight in Ragnarok. Congratulations. In Midgard we are in Boston. Your Valkyrie should be by soon to answer any other questions you might have. Hunding…” He glanced at the other guy, well I knew his name now, “Can you please escort Mr Grace here to his room on Floor 19?”

Hunding nodded and gestured to a door through which I could hear the shouts and metal clanging. “Right this was Mr Grace.”

I shifted uncomfortably, I might not be like Thalia and have completely renounced our last name but I wasn’t used to it being constantly used. “Please, call me Jason.”

He looked at me strangely for a second before nodding.

After we went through the door, we came upon a lounge. We were walking through the lounge to the door on the other side, when a guy about my age came in. I noticed him because he wasn’t really bothering to try and avoid the weapons, nobody else really was, but he also wasn’t joining in on the shouting or other games going on. He appeared to be looking for someone. It became obvious who he was looking for when he came over and started up a conversation with Hunding. I stood there awkwardly for 5 minutes as Hunding had forgotten about me for his conversation. Eventually the other guy gave Hunding what looked like some chocolate before noticing me for the first time. He gave a start and looked me up and down before smiling at me and asking Hunding.

“Who’s the new guy?”

Hunding glanced at me and replied “Jason Grace, just came in today. He’s actually going to be your new neighbour.”

“Really? Cool…” he nodded at me “You’ll have the corridor to yourself soon.” He told me before turning back to Hunding, “Would you me to show him around until Sam gets here, I’m guessing he’s one of hers? I know Helgi will have a bunch of other jobs for you to do.”

Hunding beamed at that, “Yeah he’s one of Samirah’s, and I’d really appreciate it thanks Magnus, you’re a star.”

Magnus turned towards me as Hunding walked off. As I got a good look at him, his eyes startled me, they were the same steel grey as Annabeth’s although they were a lot friendlier, that girl was scary.

“Hi,” he said, “I’m Magnus, welcome to Valhalla.” He held out his hand for me to shake.

I took it saying “Thanks, Jason Grace.”

He looked down at my arm and noticed my tattoo, I had forgotten about it. I wanted to ask about his reaction as he almost seems to recognise it but he forestalled me by asking, “So what impressively heroic feat did you do to end up here?”

As I turned to follow him as we got into an elevator to go up to my new floor I told him, “Umm...I got stabbed in the back with a spear.”

He winced “Ouch, I know how that feels.”

He seemed to be a good person to ask what the Hades was going on. “So,” I continued, “What exactly is Valhalla?”

He looked uncomfortable, “I’m probably not the best person to explain this, but basically it’s the Norse afterlife for those who died heroically with a weapon in hand.”

“Ok…” I decided that until I was sure what the Hades was going on I wouldn’t mention that I’m in the wrong afterlife. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t meant to go to the Norse afterlife instead of the Underworld.

After standing in an awkward silence for a few seconds the elevator finally arrived at floor 19. Magnus told me all about my new neighbours as we passed their rooms. “So this is Halfborn’s room, he’s your typical Viking; big, hairy, thickheaded, good to have on your side in a fight. He and Mallory are in an on again off again relationship, so tread carefully there, I think they aren’t currently together. That’s T.J’s room, he was a soldier in the Civil War. He fought with the Union and is obsessed with hills, I think it’s a Civil War thing.”

I nodded, “I have a friend whose grandmother was a slave, she wasn’t happy to hear that my forebears were Confederates.”

Magnus nodded, “Yeah probably best not to mention that to T.J either. Anyway that’s Mallory’s room, she’s Irish and has the brogue to match. Don’t get on her bad side, her knives are always sharp.” I thought that she sounded kind of like Annabeth and noted to be careful where I stepped with her.

I then pointed to a door which had Alex Fierro and a snake like symbol on it and asked, “What about him?”

Magnus hesitated before answering, “That’s Alex’s room...she’s genderfluid, so be careful what you say about her.”

I nodded absorbing that information, “Sorry about that, almost sounds like you have a crush on her.”

Magnus looked kind of panicked “What?! No...she’s just...cool. Anyway, you're here beside me.” He hurriedly pointed to the next door.

I looked at the door for my new home. It was purple and orange, reminding me of the two camps. Magnus looked queasy at the colour choices but it made me feel nostalgic for my cabin on the Argo, it’s door had been the exact same, all the doors had all been like that, in order to remind us what we were fighting for. I opened the door and was transported to the lounge of the Argo, it even had the Camp Half Blood video walls, but it also had Camp Jupiter ones as well.

“How did they do this?” I asked in awe, wandering around.

Magnus grinned and said “Magic, it takes your best memories and recreates them to make you feel at home here. My rooms have a tree. What’s the reasoning behind yours, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Uhh…” I said as I caught sight of the Superman poster in my bedroom, that Leo had hung in my room in the Argo as a joke. “This is the lounge area from a cruise I went on with some of my friends and family. The video walls were created by a genius friend of mine, they show videos of the summer camps we went to, we all met at them.”

“Wow,” he said looking at some photos. “Are these your friends?”

I joined him and picked up one of the photos, which had me, the rest of the Seven and Nico and Reyna in it. We had taken the photo in Epirus, so Percy and Annabeth were still looking a little the worse for wear, but we were all ecstatic to have survived to close the Doors of Death and to have Annabeth and Percy back with us.

I felt close to crying, “Yeah, those are my friends, this one has all of us who went on the cruise and a couple of others who flew out to join us, we’re in Epirus, which is in Greece. That’s Nico,” I pointed as I named them and described them for Magnus. “The goth looking boy, he’s my cousin along with Percy and Hazel. Reyna, we grew up together, she’s one of my best friends, she’s amazing, a natural leader and very strong in all ways. Frank, he's a beast man, I didn’t really know him all that well when we first went on the cruise, but now he’s a good friend. He’s also a distant cousin of Percy’s I think. Hazel, she’s Nico’s half sister, and the sweetest thing alive. She and frank are together and adorable about it. Then it’s Annabeth, she’s crazy smart, and super scary.” Magnus smiled at that for some reason, but I carried on. “When I first met her, she was looking for her boyfriend and thought I might know where he was. She scared the heebie jeebies out of me, when she stalked up to me demanding to know where he was. We’re close now though, my older sister practically raised her as a kid. Next is Percy, Annabeth’s boyfriend, he’s kinda the leader of our group of friends, but he’s really cool, we’re bros. He and Annabeth had just got back from a really hard tramp, which is why they weren’t looking so good. Then it’s Piper, we’re best friends, at the time this photo was taken, we were together, but she broke up with me later because she felt it wasn’t working. Her mum pushed her into it, her mum is a crazy matchmaker and really ships Percy and Annabeth together. Then it’s me, and then it’s my boy, Leo the Supersized McShizzle, he’s annoying and a bit of a jokester, but we’ve been through a lot together. He decided to go AWOL for a bit, and I only just found out where he was.” I choked back a sob, “We were about to see each other again too, when I died. Oh, and this…” I picked up another photo. “Is Thalia, my sister, she had only just found me again before we went on that cruise. My stepmother decided to raise me, and then Thalia ran away because our mum was abusive, and she didn’t even know I was alive. Gods she’s going to be devastated when she hears…” I trailed off lost in thought of all the friends and family that I had lost, and Magnus quietly slipped out the door behind me.

I hope you enjoyed! Please do let me know what you think, and I’ll try and get the next chapter up soon hopefully. Redoing this in part was me trying to get past writer’s block on some of my other projects, but if you guys ever want feel free to send in prompts or requests for me to write, it’s always nice to get feedback etc.

I ended up playing KH3 for far, far too long yesterday and got through three Disney worlds + Twilight Town, thought I’d post some thoughts while they’re still fresh! Mostly broad strokes but spoilers under the cut.

For better or worse the game really hasn’t been too hard considering I’m playing on hard. The only time I’ve come close to dying was an early boss before I had cure, and that was because I forgot to equip more potions. Doesn’t bother me though, I’m glad it’s not as punishing as early critical mode BBS was.

The most exciting thing for me in this game was seeing the original traveling trio finally reunited. Sora, Donald and Goofy’s relationships in this game really highlight everything I love about them. They’re constantly riffing on each other, frequently worry about each other, while a main scene is going on Sora and Donald are messing around in the background. I love how open they’ve been about how much their friendship means to them, it’s been 14 years since they last ventured together and they feel closer than ever. I’ve and smiled so much while just watching them do their thing.

I’ve also taken an absurd amount of pictures with them.

Absolutely love how lively everything feels, the dialogue is snappier, there’s citizens in all the towns talking to each other, the animations aren’t limited by PS2 engine graphics. The cutscenes seem to generally have music tailored specifically to the scenes now, which is great. Im excited for the OST down the road.

Hercules

The fact that Olympus has been in every KH game and that this map is still bigger than all of the others combined is baffling, even when you consider Olympus is generally the smallest world anyway.

Herc thinks that the best way to save a child from a fire is to throw a gigantic statue at her.

The whole point of coming here is that Sora has lost all his powers and yet he inexplicably has the power to summon any ride at Disneyland at will. “We have to protect the world order!“ Donald says as I summon Buzz Lightyear Astro Blasters in front of Hercules.

I didn’t think we’d get to spend so much time in the land of the Gods, pretty cool!

I’ve been really looking forward to finally fighting all four of the titans, fighting three at once was really unexpected!

Sora, Donald and Goofy are finally heroes!!

Twilight Town

Everyone acts like it was just yesterday that Sora was in Twilight Town but it was apparently long enough for Scrooge McDuck to entirely renovate part of the town and build a new restaurant so what’s the truth, Pence??

Hayner, Pence and Olette are the kind of kids that get told “Replicas of you were friends with this one kid, can you help us look for him?” and they’re just like yeah sure, that sounds fun. What good kids.

Why are all three of them wearing plaid too though. What did Yen Sid tell them?

Toy Story

The most unrealistic thing about the entire game so far is that Andy plays Final Fantasy.

Andy must live in New York or something because this toy store is absurdly huge! There’s also not a Buzz Lightyear section so I guess his franchise was in between seasons.

Buzz and Woody’s roles felt a little reversed? I’d expect Woody would be the one that would want to wait home for Andy and Buzz be the one that would want to go looking for answers and would trust Sora and the others more. But the story was overseen by people at Pixar so... what do I know, I guess?

The Org.13′s plan for this world is kind of a huge stretch.

Buzz: “What if I become controlled too?“ Woody: “That would never happen.” Narrator voice: And then it happened.

Repltilus Maximus!!!!!

They missed a prime opportunity to end the Toy Box world with “You’ve got a friend in us“ because everyone was caught up in talking about hearts instead...

Tangled

So far I feel like this one would be the most incomprehensible if you went into the world not knowing anything about Tangled, they omitted a lot and the movie characters suddenly know things that were omitted with no warning. They didn’t even explain Rapunzel’s hair until the tail end of the world! But it’s not exactly a mark against the world since who doesn’t know anything about Tangled, really.

I do like how they handled this world though, instead of following the movie exactly we got to see a lot of small moments with Rapunzel marveling at the outside. Her friendship was Sora was great, liked that he related to her wanting to see the outside world.

Love how Rapunzel spends absolute ages both agonizing and rejoicing over her choice to go outside while Sora and the others watch on before realizing "Wait, there are strangers here”.

I don’t know how much I actually trust SDG’s decision to let Rapunzel fight but honestly, going from a complete hermit to being willing and able to fight monsters in the span of a few hours? Good on you Rapunzel.

I’m pretty sure it was in this world that someone referred to the trio as ‘Sora, Goofy and Donald‘ in that order and it shook me to the core.

Marluxia waited until Mother Gothel was literally dead and disintegrated before deciding ‘Maybe leaving Rapunzel with her is actually a bad idea, better get rid of her‘  sure was uh. Hm.

Visually this is the world that impressed me the most so far, I can’t believe how close some of the shots look to the movie, especially near the end!

Flynn’s death was legitimately as sad as it was in the movie but I grinned like an idiot when Goofy comforted a choked up Sora because that was heckin adorable.

Also heckin adorable was Sora dancing at the festival. He was having so much fun that I enjoyed it myself even though I was awful at the minigame.

And it looks like Rapunzel permanently leaves your party after the end of the story. Kind of a bummer as I like having various party members in the Lucky Emblem shots and I think I only got a couple, if any.

For your love prompts, 007 with Hades and Persephone? 😊❤️ Thank you!

Oh thank the gods. Bless you for actually giving me a prompt. This was written while I’m on medication so I apologize for any errors. 007: “I’m cold. Come closer.”

It had been six months already. Six months since Hades did the one impulsive thing in his life. Six months of Persephone living in the Underworld. And six months of her refusing to even acknowledge him.

He didn’t blame her. He couldn’t at all. He had given punishments to mortals who tried to do the same with women they took as their wives. Hades tried to reason he was better than they. Not once did he try to force her company, not once did he try to kiss her, nor did he try to consummate their marriage.That would be dictated on her terms.

He slumped on his throne with a heavy sigh. Things had been going so well. They would talk with each other for hours before all of this happened. She would lie among the flowers, casually chatting with them until one day, he heard her. Her words carried down into the earth transmitted with the roots of the plants she grew. Roots hung down from the ceiling of the Underworld as spindly chandeliers. “I wish I could be on Olympus with my sisters,” she had told a particularly old looking rose bush. Her fingertips brushed a bud, still green and hard, not ready to bloom. Her touch rectified that and it blossomed into a lovely white rose.“And why is that?” The petals spoke back. Kore started and drew back, her eyes searching everywhere to see if an unfriendly satyr was spying on her. She hastily scrambled to her feet, on alert. “I don’t mean to pry,” said the bloom in a deep male voice, “but you did tell me.” Kore glared at the flower in distrust. “Where are you? I can’t find you. I’ll have you known I’m an Olympian myself, not some little Leimoniad or Dryad!” She was suddenly authoritative. Deep in the ground, Hades smiled softly. “I didn’t assume,” he replied quietly. He paused for a moment, wondering how to proceed. His name was not often spoken in polite society, and was avoided at all costs. Even various epithets were used lightly, hoping to avoid his attention. “I mean you no harm,” he said in the gentlest way he could, “I’m not with you. I am… below the earth.”“Oh…” Kore eased herself back down onto the soft grass. Something in his voice was so sincere, so earnest, she believe she was at no risk. “You heard me talking to the flowers?” Panic began to creep in her voice. She often spoke to the flowers about a lot of things she didn’t want to speak to other people about. True, she had a very open relationship with her mother, but everyone had to keep secrets now and then. Saying them aloud helped her prioritize and solve her problems. It provided her a better head space.That didn’t mean she wanted this newfound voice to know all about them.“Difficult not to, when you do it so frequently and interrupt my work.” He gave a slight chuckle at this, to signify it was good natured and he wasn’t angry with her. “However,” Hades reached up and delicately touched the root, “you never answered my question.”“Because… well… Because everyone else is up there. I used to go up when I was younger, sit on Mother’s lap on her throne with all the other Olympians, but now that I’m grown, she’s more irritated up there. Not that I blame her!”Hades gave her a deep belly laugh. “I don’t blame her at all.” Kore smiled as the rose bounced with the reverberations. She was quiet for a moment before she continued, “I miss my sisters, not so much my brothers. Hermes is fun, he always makes me laugh.”“Hmm,” Hades moved a parchment in front of him while they continued the conversation, looking over the influx of shades for the given month. He had varying opinions on the impish God. “-but Apollo! He’s so annoying.” Kore thrust her arms up toward the sky, not that her companion could see, “he’s always dropping in, trying to sing some stupid songs to me while I’m working, shining too much sun or not enough on my flowers and then! Then acting like he didn’t know and -!” Kore let out a growl of frustration.“I concur with those sentiments, I assure you,” Hades told her plainly. She smiled at his response. “At least I can tell you… Mother wants me to play nice.” Silence settled on them, but it wasn’t unwanted. A honeybee passed by and Kore watched its swirling trail. “What’s your name?” She asked the rose softly. “…besides rose, of course.”

“Is that what I am? Well…” Hades knew it had come to this. The moment where their pleasant conversation would come to an abrupt end. “I am known by many names,” he said carefully.“Me too!” Kore exclaimed excitedly, “Mother always calls me Kore as a nickname, but my real name is Persephone. There are others who call me Despoina and Proserpina, but I think I prefer Persephone above all else.”Hades sighed with relief and started to list all his various names on his fingers. “Some call me Aidoneus, Polydectes, Eubulus, Dis, Dis Pater, Plu-”

“Hades,” she said quietly.

He stopped, his countenance already downtrodden as he anticipated her rejection. “Yes.”

“You should have said that in the beginning! Anyway-”

They continued like that for many months. He in his study and her in her meadow, talking endlessly about the events of their days. Their shared enjoyment of their conversations filled a void Hades didn’t realize he held and neither did she. He hadn’t realized Eros had pierced his heart so deeply until he went above to retrieve a boon some hero tried to steal when Hades saw her. He was cloaked with his helm of invisibility and all was lost to him except Persephone. And now she resented him. He loved her so deeply, he knew he deserved it. She had avoided him at all costs, and it was apparently a simple task to perform, given the vastness of his realm. His servants informed him that she stayed mostly in her room, refusing to go out into the Underworld.He didn’t blame her.

After the shock of being stolen away without a goodbye to Demeter, without being asked, she was furious with Hades.

“You expect me to marry you when you haven’t even asked me?!” She had bellowed at him, enough to shake the spirits. He stood dumbfounded and helpless as he saw her slipping away from him. “I trusted you and you couldn’t trust me! If you can’t talk to me, then I won’t speak to you. At all.”

Her words were thunderously final. He never relented, sending her notes and gifts of varying degrees of beauty. He did not know if she enjoyed them or even acknowledged their existence. Jewels, necklaces, rings, adornments of all kinds, tapestries, clothes, instruments, flowers, books, anything and everything he tried to give her to appease her, but silence was his reward.

Every evening he knocked on her door and tried to speak with her, but every evening he was turned away or nothingness met his ear. And Hades accepted his punishment. Today was different. 

She was perched on the steps of the palace, overlooking the kingdom. Hades approached her cautiously, as though she was a deer about to be frightened away at the slightest movement.She sighed deeply, aware of his presence, but made no gesture to move. He sat beside her, several feet away and gazed at the scenery himself. Several long, uncomfortable minutes ticked between them.

“Persephone, I know I’ve said it countless times but please, please believe me when I say I’m sorry.” Hades looked at his feet, ashamed of himself and his actions. 

She was silent and still.

Stubbornness was an Olympian trait that could be admired. He nodded to himself, affirming he would try again tomorrow as he stood when at last, she spoke. “I’m cold… Come closer?”She looked up at him, with sad pleading eyes, unsure how to proceed forward. Her request was clumsy but sincere, her arms hugging herself tightly. Hades released the breath he unknowingly was holding and sat beside Persephone. She inched closer, until their thighs touched, and she rested her head against his chest. Cautiously, he wrapped his arms around her. 

“Is this all right?” He murmured into her unruly hair, smelling her sweet perfume. 

She nodded and gripped at him fiercely. “I forgive you. I’ve missed you,” she confessed, holding back tears.  “Shhh, shh, shhh,” he cooed at her, petting her arm tenderly. “I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”

She lifted her head to look up at him directly, her green eyes large and pleading. Her head tilted closer, searching his own to see what he would do next. He was slow and passive, not trying to rush his good fortune. Hades cupped her cheek and gazed softly at her. 

“May I kiss you?” His voice was low and gentle. Her nod was slight only because her lips were already on their way to meet his own. 

His beard was rough against her chin but the kiss was sweet like ambrosia. It was innocent as far as kisses were concerned, but held so many more promises. 

“Still cold?”“Mmm hmmm.” Persephone rested her head back on his chest and they just held each other as they looked over their kingdom.  

Guiding Through the Cruel Sea

This is the first in a series of Dark!Percy stories I am writing.

Percy Jackson was swinging his sword, sparring with another half-blood. He and his opponent were surrounded by other half-bloods who were watching in awe. But behind them were a variety of monsters, roaring and cheering to the fight. The two dueled around the Prominade of the Princess Andromeda, which was acting as the mobile base for the rising Titan army.

After Percy joined Luke, he was told the huge cruise ship was enchanted to remain hidden from the gods’ sight. After a few weeks on board, practicing his abilities (which he had plenty of practice, being surrounded by water) he eventually learned how to use the ocean to maneuver the ship, making for smooth sailing. As long as he didn’t try to manipulate water too far from the ship, he could avoid conflicting with his father, Poseidon’s, domain.

Usually Percy would’ve ended this fight, but he had a lot on his mind. Specifically, the reoccurring dreams of an old friend who was in trouble. The problem was, he now knew they weren’t dreams, and he needed to do something. He just didn’t know how, yet. He had to find a way to convince Luke to allow him to leave and help his missing friend.  

Finally, Percy had found and opening in his opponent’s technique, and attacked. Percy disarmed his opponent, pushed him to the ground, and held him at sword point. Monsters continued to cheer, with some shouting for him to kill the demigod.

He lowered his sword, “You’re getting better, but I your technique is still too predictable. Once I knew your moves, I could see your next attack a mile away.”

He offered his hand to the defeated opponent, and helped him to his feet. “Alright,” Percy said, looking to a line of other demigods, “who’s up-”

“Percy!” he heard someone shout. He turned to see the unclaimed demigod, Chris Rodriguez, running to him, “Luke needs to see you. He’s in his cabin.”

Percy frowned, not liking the idea of going to Luke’s room, which had another occupant that Percy did not want to be near.

“Thanks”

Percy ordered the recruits to spar amongst themselves. Before leaving, he also gave monsters a threatening glare, causing some to flinch. It was a look that said, ‘Touch those kids, and you’re dead.’

Percy made his way up to the cabin, passing various monsters and Mist-blinded mortals. He felt a sudden chill, which got colder as he walked closer to the room. He had to catch his breath when he was just outside the door before opening it.

He was greeted to Luke and his two monster guards, Agrius and Oreius, standing and watching two new passengers, who were seated with their backs to the door, facing Luke.

“Please come in. I have a surprise for you,” Luke welcomed in a friendly tone. Percy walked in and reluctantly closed the door behind him. Once he was beside Luke, he got a better look at the two people in the chairs. One was a huge guy, with messy brown hair. Percy also saw that the boy had a single eye: a Cyclops. And judging from identity of his companion, it was probably the same Cyclops Luke mentioned that had arrived at Camp Half-Blood days ago. That person next to the creature had blond hair, and grey eyes, which were now burning through Percy as she glared.

“Annabeth,” Percy breathed out. She said nothing, holding her angered expression.

“It seems we had some stowaways,” Luke said, “I thought you might want to see an old friend.”

There was so much going through Percy’s mind right now. He imagined seeing some of his former friends again, but now with Annabeth right there, he was at a loss of words. Months of being surrounded by monsters had made him long for his old friends. Once Luke felt Percy was committed to the fight, and more demigods arrived on the ship, the feeling of loss became easier to bear. But still, Luke was becoming too close to Kronos, and the demigods were recruits who he helped train, but none felt brave to approach him as a friend.

And now Annabeth was here. He wanted to tell her he’d protect her. That she was safe, despite the monsters crawling around the ship. Still he could not look soft in front of Luke, or the monster in the big glowing box.

“How’d they get on board?” he asked. He tried to sound tough, but it was eclipsed by a slightly joyous tone.

“Apparently our security isn’t as strong as we thought. But that will change soon,” Luke motioned to the glowing sarcophagus. Percy shivered, and looked at the prisoners, still needing to play his role in the interrogation.

“Well,” Percy said to the two prisoners, “what are you doing here?”

Annabeth kept her composure and her mouth closed, as she stared at him in defiance. He stared back, almost like he was searching for secrets in her gaze.

“Dad wanted me to find you,” the Cyclops spoke.

“Tyson,” Annabeth turned her head to the Cyclops, looking shocked and annoyed at him.

Percy turned to the Cyclops, Tyson. The creature looked very nervous, and when he looked at Percy, the demigod could swear Tyson was silently pleading to him. Percy really felt some pity for the poor thing. It almost looked innocent.

“Well, Tyson, not sure who your dad is, but you can tell him-”

“It’s Poseidon, Seaweed Brain” Annabeth said, causing Percy to flinch hearing the name, “Some Cyclopes, like Tyson, are his kids.”

Percy could hear some snickers from the monsters. He looked closely at Tyson, examining further, searching for some resemblance to his apparent half-brother.

“Dad misses you,” Tyson said in that same innocent tone.

“I can’t believe you, of all people, Annabeth, would team up with a Cyclops,” Luke said, “How can you insult Thalia’s memory?”

“How could you poison her tree?” Annabeth said harshly to him, “You’re killing her again, and I’m the one insulting her memory?”

“I’m not insulting her. The gods insulted her long before I did anything,” Luke said, “She fought for them and this was her reward. If she were here right now, she’d be by my side with Percy.”

“Never!” Annabeth shouted.

“Wake up Annabeth,” Percy said, “You’re being used by Olympus like we were. It doesn’t have to be like this. Demigods are joining us every day, and we could use your brains.”

“Because you lack them,” she retorted. Percy had to fight back a smile from her retort.

“The Olympians are going to fall,” Percy continued, “Luke told me that they fear me. Because of some prophecy saying that by my sixteenth birthday, I’ll make a choice that will preserve or raze Olympus. But if you join us, you won’t have to go down with them.”

“Go to Tartarus,” she said.

“A shame,” Luke said.

Percy stood back as Luke instructed Oreius to take the prisoners to be fed to one of the monsters.

“Percy, go with him,” Luke commanded, “Make sure they don’t try anything.”

-

Percy had his sword prepped as he walked behind Tyson and Annabeth, whose hands were tied, while Oreius lead in front of the group.

As they were walking, Percy thought about the times he and Annabeth and Grover shared on their quest together last year. Percy suddenly had an idea. He looked into one of the bathrooms, and shifted his hand slyly, causing a creaking noise of the pipes.

“Stop,” Percy ordered, causing Oreius to stop. He pointed his sword at Tyson, inches from his face, “Who else is with you?”

Tyson looked at him with fear, as both him and Annabeth seemed confused. Another creaking noise was heard.

“Oreius, go and search the ship. Get others if you need them. If this is a quest, there should be a third member somewhere on board.”

“But the prisoners-”

“We’re in the middle of the ocean!” Percy yelled, “I can handle them. Just go!”

The monster looked disappointed, but walked back.

“Okay,” Percy said to his captives, “We don’t have long. You guys need to get out of here.”

They looked at him wide-eyed. “What are you planning,” Annabeth asked in suspicion.

“Helping you escape. Now let me see your hands,” he said, raising Riptide up.

Tyson immediately raised his hands, but Annabeth kept her hands down.

“Oh, this is, so, a trap” she exclaimed, “You want us to find the Golden Fleece for you.”

“That’s not it,” he said, “I need your help. Grover’s in trouble.”

This seemed to catch Annabeth’s attention.

“What do you mean he’s in trouble? How could you know?”

“Apparently him and I have some empathy connection. He’s been sending me distress calls for the last few weeks.”

“And you didn’t do anything about it?” Annabeth said.

“I told you, I’m important to them. Luke was not going to let me leave his side for a satyr. I need your help.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“What does it matter? He’s captured by some Cyclops called Po-ly-phe-mus,” he said, struggling to remember the name.

“Polyphemus?” Annabeth said, “He has the Golden Fleece. You want that, don’t you?”

“Luke wants it, but think, Wise Girl. Grover said the Fleece has strong nature magic, so if it’s true, wouldn’t Grover be drawn to it?” Percy explained.

She still looked at him skeptically.

“Look, all I know is Grover is able to hold off Polyphemus for now but if you don’t go soon, he’s dinner.”

Hesitantly, Annabeth showed her tied wrists, “Fine.”

Percy cut her and Tyson’s ropes.

“There’s a life boat at the end of the deck,” Percy said, pointing in the direction, “I can give you clear waters until you’re out of the ship’s view.”

“You’re not going to help us save Grover?” Annabeth asked.

“I told you that he’s in trouble and you know where to find him. I can’t leave. Now go.”

“Please let’s go,” Tyson begged to Annabeth while looking at Percy too.

She looked at Tyson and back at Percy. She armed herself with her blade and pack, and she and Tyson ran in the direction of the life boats. Percy looked over the side of the ship at the water until he heard the alarm go off. He turned to see one of the life boats speeding away from the ship.

-

A Day Later, Sea of Monsters

Annabeth struggled to stay awake on the lifeboat of the CSS Birmingham. Though the winds Hermes provided, had given her enough distance, she still tried to get as far as she could to get away from those monstrous sisters: Scylla and Charybdis. But the sun had not been very merciful, as she was trapped in the ocean, with no food or fresh water, with the sunlight baring down. She had no idea where she was, and she didn’t know which direction to swim towards, if she was heading to a refuge or another monster. Her eyes got heavier as her muscles got weaker.

Before sleep could consume her, she heard a loud horn, startling her awake, and her eyes shot open to see a fisherman’s boat moving across the horizon. She tried to stand and waved her hands, “Over here!”

She kept yelling and waving, though concerned she’d fall off the rocking lifeboat. For a second, she thought the boat would continue its course without her. But she saw as the boat turned to her direction. As it got closer, she saw that it wasn’t exactly well kept. It had rust, barnacles and it needed a paint job. She could barely make out the name of the boat, The Melicertes, written in blue letters on the side. The boat slowed, until it stopped right next to her lifeboat. Annabeth grabbed the latter and weakly climbed up onto the vessel. As she reached the deck, she laid on her back, at heard the motor start, and she drifted off.

When Annabeth woke, she found herself below deck, on a mattress in a messy living quarters. She did feel a little cooler, now out of the exposure of the sun.

“Are you awake?” a familiar voice said. Instinctively, she grabbed her dagger on her hip. She shot up, and pinned Percy to the wall with the dagger on his throat.

“I guess so,” he said.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Apparently helping you, again. Unless you want me to put you back where I found you.”

Annabeth’s pulled the dagger away from Percy’s throat, though she kept it close. “Where’s Luke?”

“Probably still on the Andromeda. It’s just me.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now?”

“27, 40, 70, 23” Percy stated.

“What does that mean?”

“That is where we are right now. I know exactly where we are. And you’ll need me to help navigate the sea.”

“What’s to stop you from killing me, if you can find the island on your own.”

“I know the coordinates, but I need you to help avoid the dangerous islands. I don’t know the Sea of Monsters and which places to avoid, so I need your help as well. We can find Grover faster if we work together.”

Annabeth thought for a minute, then cautiously lowered her blade from him.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You get us to the island, and you will tell me everything.”

“Okay.”

-

As they sailed, Percy told her about his time after she and Tyson escaped. He told her that after he freed her and Tyson, he was in trouble with Luke. He made his own escape from the ship and was able to hijack the fisherman’s boat. He told her that he entered the Sea of Monsters through the Clashing Rocks. Once on the other side, he could feel her in the water and went to find her.

As he was telling her his story, he coaxed her story out as well. He learned how she and Tyson were able to make land and how Clarisse rescued them from monsters in her riverboat and took them aboard before making for the Sea of Monsters. After the rescue, Clarisse decided to use the entrance guarded by Scylla and Charybdis. Percy was baffled, hearing that even Clarisse would be bold (and stupid) enough to try and destroy the monster whirlpool with cannons. After the failure to destroy the monster, the ship’s engine soon exploded.

“I saw Clarisse get off the ship before it blew.”

“What about the Cyclops?”

“Tyson-” Annabeth started, but stopped, looking down in melancholy, “He…He went to try and save the ship. He bought me enough time to get to a lifeboat before the ship blew up. He…saved me.”

“He sounded pretty cool. Wish I got to know him better.”

“So do I. I was so wrong about him. I…”

Percy didn’t know how to comfort her. He was about to pat her shoulder, but she hit his hand away.

“Don’t,” she said, angrily, “You don’t get to betray us and then turn around and try to be a friend. I don’t need your console.”

“You and Grover are my friends. And the Cyclops-”

“Tyson!” Annabeth corrected him.

“Yeah, Tyson. He was important to you.”

“Not just me. Sally too. Oh gods, how am I going to tell her-”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Percy asked, as he shifted from pity to curiosity.

Annabeth lips tightened and looked away, but she could feel Percy’s gaze intense.

“Why was Tyson important to my Mom?” he said, with more demanding volume.

Annabeth turned back to him and could not break the stare as he looked at her with a mix of anticipation and demand, “Because…Sally…she adopted Tyson. He’s…”

“He’s my adopted brother!?” Percy said, louder than he intended, “How…I mean…”

“When you were gone, I told Sally about you leaving. I wanted to keep an eye on her, in case you showed, and that’s when I saw her with Tyson. She told me he use to come to her candy store, and I guess she came to love him. When I first saw him in your-Sally’s-home, I thought he was trying to hurt you or Sally, and Sally stopped me from attacking him. When I was heading to camp, I still wanted to keep an eye on him and he helped me fight some monsters at the school that Sally enrolled him in. And he stayed by my side, saying he was supposed to find you.”

Percy was silent, his eyes unblinking, as the gears in his head went into overdrive. He knew he was related to some Cyclopes through his father and that didn’t really bother him. But the fact that Tyson was adopted by his mom was completely different. Tyson was there for her, and became a second child to her. Percy felt a bit jealous of that, but he was almost immediately sad again, thinking that Tyson was gone and Sally had lost another child.

“He…we…We need to get moving,” Percy proclaimed after some stammering. He decided to bury the thoughts for later. Right now, they needed to save another friend.

“Fine,” Annabeth said, “I need to see the chart. I can map the islands we can avoid and ones that are relatively safe.”

“Whatever you say, Wise Girl,” Percy said as he showed her to the map.

-

After Annabeth she looked at the charts, she determined their next obstacle before reaching their destination.

“We’re heading towards the Isle of the Sirens.”

Percy looked at the map, “Alright, well I think I could keep the ship out of hearing range-”

“I want to hear them,” Annabeth said, plainly.

Percy’s head snapped up from the map to Annabeth with his eyes wide, “Are you crazy? I thought people are supposed to go nuts after hearing their song.”

“Percy, I need to do this,” she stated, calmly.

“Why?”

“It’s something you can’t understand. I’ve heard tales. If you listened to their song, you’d comeback wiser.”

“Yeah, if you survive,” Percy said.

“I need this Percy. Please.”

Percy looked at her, and bit his lips. “Fine, but if we’re doing this, we are taking precautions.”

“No kidding, Seaweed Brain.”

They discussed the plan and Percy tied Annabeth to the ship outside. He made sure the ropes were extra tight before heading below deck, into his room and closed the door, blasting music in his headphones as he moved the ship toward the island. As the ship moved, he could hear Annabeth’s voice outside, screaming to him. He turned the music up louder to drown out her pleading voice, and potentially the siren’s song, until it was at the max.

Then he sensed it.

A body in the water, moving away from his boat. Keeping his headphones on, he saw Annabeth gone and the ropes had been cut, and saw her dagger laying on the floor.

“Hades” he said to himself as he saw Annabeth swim towards the island.

Percy stopped the boat, commanding it to stay, and jumped into the water and used his power to torpedo towards her. He got closer but the waves pushed him and Annabeth away from each other, sending one or both of them towards rocks, nets, or underwater mines. By the time Percy got his bearings, he saw her swimming closer to the island. He kept underwater, out of the range of the sirens’ voices, but Annabeth was still paddling, and he shot towards her, grabbing her ankle.

He was soon struck by a vision, which he imagined was Annabeth’s greatest desire. It was a picnic with her parents. Percy also saw Luke and a version of himself sitting there as well. Everyone happy to see her and in the background, a huge city of Manhattan, only rebuilt by her.

Once the vision cleared, Percy could feel Annabeth fighting and kicking him, trying to break free. Percy used all his force to pull Annabeth under the water with him, and he wrapped his arms around her as he swam away from the island before forming a bubble around them.

Once in the bubble, with the song completely silent, Annabeth stopped struggling and looked at Percy, realizing her present surroundings. She let out a heartbreaking sob and she leaned into Percy. Percy just held her close and let her cry, ignoring their surroundings, knowing for now, neither of them were in immediate danger.

He whispered to her, trying to comfort her. Once she calmed down, she listened to his plan to get her back safely. Feeling drained, she allowed him to continue to hold her, in the protected bubble, as he led her back to the boat. He also instructed the boat to continue moving pass the island as they followed it under the water. Once Percy was sure they were out of earshot, he stopped the ship and brought them back to the surface.

The two climbed up the latter and Annabeth just rested on her knees, wiping away any lingering tears as Percy reached the deck.

“Are you okay,” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, “I just didn’t know…”

Percy contemplated his next words carefully before speaking.

“I saw it,” he stated, “You rebuilt Manhattan. Your parents, Luke…me.”

“You had no right!” she scolded him. Her face red with anger and embarrassment.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, “I just saw it when I was rescuing you. I’m sorry.”

Annabeth inhaled and collected her thoughts, “I guess you didn’t know.”

“Your temptation…is saving me and Luke?”

She looked away, but Percy kept prodding, “Annabeth, it wasn’t your…it isn’t your fault. What I did, it was my choice. You aren’t responsible for me or ‘saving’ me.”

“You just left,” Annabeth said, “You left with Luke and I had to find out from Chiron that you betrayed us. I never even knew why…”

Annabeth’s voice faded as she was holding back her sorrow, “I guess nothing’s permanent.”

“He said he was sorry I was born,” Percy said, and she looked at him. He looked like his blue-green eyes were off at a distant, “Poseidon. He said it was some unforgivable mistake. And then he gave me a pat on the head and sent me off like the good child.”

“Percy-”

“For most of my life, he ignored me, and I could accept that he was protecting me from monsters. But then he claimed me once it was clear he and Zeus were going to go to war over that stupid bolt. I was just a tool for him. And when I got the bolt back, he told me how sorry he was I was born. Then he sent me away. I nearly died for their petty feud and I knew exactly why our lives were so short. So when Luke offered an opportunity to bring them down, I took it.”

“I made my choice and I’ll live with the consequences. But Annabeth, it is not your fault that I left, and you shouldn’t have to burden yourself with trying to save me.”

She looked at him almost pleadingly, but looked behind him.

“Percy”

He turned and saw the island of the Cyclops on the horizon.

-

After anchoring the ship, Percy and Annabeth explored the island. The Golden Fleece was currently guarded by big man-eating sheep, so for the moment, they couldn’t risk retrieving it yet. They discovered Clarisse has survived her ship’s destruction, was captured by the Cyclops, Polyphemus, and she revealed Grover as a satyr in the process. Polyphemus trapped his prisoners in a cave, blocked by a huge boulder, which Percy and Annabeth could not budge. They realized they needed to trick the Cyclops, if they were going to free their friend, and Clarisse.

Following Annabeth’s plan, Percy was able to hide beneath a sheep while the near-blind Cyclops herded it into the cave. Annabeth used the trick from Odysseus, calling herself Nobody as she challenged him while invisible and she drew him out of the cave, with him forgetting to reseal the entrance.

Percy let go of the sheep and explored the cave, traveling through the maze-like cavern. He finally found Grover trying to free Clarisse with a pair of safety scissors. Grover looked up and saw his old friends.

“Perrrrrcy,” he cried out, tears in his eyes “You came!”

“Of course I did, buddy. No way I’d leave you at the mercy of that thing.”

“Prissy?” Clarisse shouted in confusion, which was replaced by rage, “You no good traitor! When I get out of here, I’m so taking you down!”

“Good to see you again, Clarisse. Need any help, or would you like to wait for your husband-to-be?”

“Jackson!” she responded in fury.

Percy uncapped Riptide and approached Clarisse, “Right now, I’m here to help Grover. You, I’m on the fence about. So here’s the deal: I free you, you don’t try to run me through until after we off the island and back home. Got it?”

Clarisse growls and grudgingly nodded. With a swing, he freed Clarisse from her bonds. She shook off the ropes and tried to disregard Percy as she grabbed her spear. Before Percy could guide them out, he heard a loud explosion and a scream of fear from Annabeth.

The three saw Annabeth with a bad cut on her head, looking dazed as she was being held upside down by Polyphemus. The Cyclops was cheering having finally catching Nobody.

“I’ll deal with him,” Percy said, preparing his sword, but he was grabbed by Grover.

“Percy, you can’t. He’ll kill you.”

“You need us,” Clarisse stated.

Percy looked at them unsure. But realizing his chances, he agreed to their help.

All three attacked him, as he dropped Annabeth, head first, on the ground, knocking her out. Grover grabbed Annabeth and made an escape, as Percy and Clarisse continued their attack, until they too fled the cave, across the rope bridge. Grover tried to cut the rope to the bridge, and as Percy and Clarisse jumped to the end of it, Percy slashed the other support rope, but unfortunately Polyphemus had already crossed it.

The Cyclops laughed maliciously, as he was praising his victory. Percy saw as the monster swiped away Grover and Clarisse. He looked at Annabeth, looking almost broken, remembering that terrifying scream when she was caught. And he saw Grover and Clarisse, a little worse for wear, struggling to get up. Percy’s anger towards the creature grew as he gripped his sword tighter. He got up and charged at his foe.

Surprisingly, he was able to strike heavy blows at Polyphemus, until the creature toppled over. Percy tried to get onto the Cyclops head, but Polyphemus was able to throw him off, and Percy fell onto his back. Polyphemus began to rise, and Percy started to feel the fatigue kicking in, knowing he couldn’t throw in the same strength a second time at such a beast. He looked up at Polyphemus, but before the Cyclops could gain footing, a basketball-size rock flew from an unknown direction, into Polyphemus mouth and the giant Cyclops began hacking and coughing. Seeing the opportunity, Percy got up again and using the last of his strength, jumped onto Polyphemus face and embedded Riptide into his eye, and the giant Cyclops roared before dissolving into a massive pile of golden dust, flying away into the wind. Percy heard a shout and looked to his unexpected ally: the much smaller and nicer Cyclops.

“Tyson?” Percy shouted in confusion as he saw Tyson standing in the middle of a bunch of meat-eating sheep. They did not seem to think of Tyson as a threat, probably because he was also a Cyclops.

“Hi, brother,” Tyson answered, waving to Percy. Percy had no idea what to say as he stared, stunned at his Cyclops sibling. But he then remembered Annabeth and her injury. Percy ran to look at Annabeth and saw she was hurt worse than he thought, as her head was bleeding. He had an idea.

“Tyson, Annabeth, she’s hurt really bad and needs that Fleece,” Percy yelled.

“Which one?” Tyson asked, looking at the various sheep.

“The gold one. Hanging on the tree.”

Tyson walked up and grabbed the Fleece and threw it to Percy. Percy finally had the Fleece in his hands. Percy turned to Annabeth and saw Grover looking worryingly at him, while Clarisse seemed ready to jump him at any moment, spear in hand. Percy ignored them and placed the Fleece onto Annabeth. Almost immediately, she woke up, and saw her friends around her.

Worried for her injuries, Percy asked her to hold onto the Fleece until she felt all better. He also was able to ask Tyson to lead the sheep away, so they could run for the boat. As they got close to the sea, he looked back and kept watch for Tyson. After thinking Tyson had died and discovering that he was his adopted brother, Percy was not going to leave him behind. While Polyphemus certainly did not inspire any sympathy for Cyclops, Tyson saved Annabeth and had just saved them again. He owed him, big time. He finally saw Tyson running back, with the sheep at his heel. Percy figured the sheep must have realized Tyson had no food. Percy waited until Tyson was close to the shore and summoned water from the sea to push the sheep back inland.

“Go, I’ll be right behind you,” Percy said. Tyson jumped into the water and Percy backed up until he could dive into the sea. He moved the current, pushing him and Tyson onto The Melicertes, and they climbed up with Annabeth, still wrapped in the Fleece, as well as Grove, and Clarisse waiting for them. Percy turned on the motor and drove it away from the cursed island.

-

Percy turned off the engine and directed the current to guide them back to the Clashing Rocks. For the sake of peace on the ship, everyone agreed that the Fleece would remain on Annabeth until they made land outside the Sea of Monsters.

As Percy went to watch the horizon, he saw Tyson, looking down at the water, at the amazing sea creatures. Tyson looked at Percy, and smiled as Percy leaned forward on the side, next to Tyson.

“Annabeth told me about you. She said you helped a lot since I left. I just want to say thank you,” Percy said.

“Annabeth misses you. She has the same look Mom has when she talks about you.”

“Right,” he said, “How did you meet my-um-our mom?”

“I was lonely and I prayed and prayed to Dad. He lead me to her. She gave me treats every day for free outside her store and asked if I’d like to stay with her for a few days. Dad told her he didn’t want either of us to be lonely anymore and she became Mom. She even got me school so I could make friends, but no one was nice to me until Annabeth.”

Percy thought about how Poseidon drove Tyson to Sally. He didn’t know what to think: If it was some elaborate plan in convincing Percy to come back, or if he really did care for her and Tyson. He then broached the question he dreaded, “How is Mom?”

“She is very happy. She gives great hugs when I get home from school and makes the best cookies. But she is also sad. She misses you.”

“I miss her too,” Percy said, solemnly, “Tyson, can you tell her I still love her and that I will make everything better?”

“You are not coming with us?”

“Well, um, it’s hard for me to explain. I’m not ready yet-”

“Percy!” someone shouted. Relieved, Percy went to find Grover, looking at a huge wall of rock with a single passage for their vessel.

Everyone saw the Clashing Rocks coming up on the horizon.

“Alright, Prissy,” Clarisse order, “Get us out of here.”

“Gonna be tricky. I got through because a bird flew through it and I timed it. And it almost blew out my engines.”

“Percy, we don’t have time to wait,” Annabeth said, “Thalia could die any day now. We need to risk it.”

He knew she was right. They were low on supplies and it could take days before he could get expect anything. He knew the extra weight might be an issue, but he needed to risk it. They got as close as they could to the exit, with no indication of disturbance.

“Everyone, hang onto something.”

As everyone got ready, he turned on the motor and moved even closer, as he prepped the currents. He counted to three out loud to everyone and on three, The Melicertes sped through the water as fast as a motor boat. They moved between the cliffs, as giant boulders began to fall from the sky above them. They were nearly in the clear as the motor began to burn. Percy kept pushing the boat and they barely made it out with huge gashes ripping through the paint around the vessel.

“Alright, we should be near Miami now,” he said as he drove the ship. He could smell the engine now burning and figured it be better if he guided the ship until shore was in sight before trying the motor again.

Percy saw the docks and began to guide the boat, until he felt an impact on his skull and everything went dark.

-

Percy woke up, finding himself lying on a soft couch. As his senses returned, he felt he saw he was under fluorescent lights and he pushed himself up, seeing familiar furniture and wall paper.

“It’s about time you woke up,” Percy turned to see Luke, standing against the wall, arms folded.

“How long was I out,” Percy asked, sitting up.

“A good hour or so when we found you. You were lying on the dock and we got you back here. Care to tell me what happened?” Luke said.

“Well, I’m guessing someone must have knocked me out,” Percy said sarcastically, rubbing the wound on the back of his head. He didn’t know which one of the three travel companions hit him, though he had a good idea which one to blame.

“The Fleece?” Luke asked.

“I guess it’s heading to Camp Half-Blood now.” Percy stated.

Luke pushed himself away from the wall and looked down as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “This is not good Percy. Kronos will not be pleased.”

“Sorry,” Percy sincerely said to Luke. He knew that both of them would not be getting a good night’s sleep for a while with the Titan tormenting their dreams for their failures. “But maybe it’s for the best. We are gathering followers, so maybe Kronos doesn’t need to reform.”

“Percy,” Luke said in a dark tone, like a warning, “I’m going to assume you are trying to be positive, and not thinking of defying the King of Titans.”

Percy closed his lips tightly.

“With the Fleece at Camp Half-Blood now, things might get more complicated with the prophecy. You need to be very careful what you say and do,” Luke cautioned him.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you later, after you’ve settled in. But I will say that Kronos still plans on reforming. The Fleece would make things easy and convenient for all of us. But there are other ways, and I hope Plan B works. I do not look forward to Plan C.”

“I don’t…” Percy began and sat down, feeling light headed.

Luke came up and handed him some ambrosia, “Here, eat up. We have a lot to discuss when you’re ready.”

Percy took some of the delicious food as Luke left. After a few minutes, Percy stated feeling much better and he left the cabin. He moved along the ship, where he was greeted by some demigods, who he trained, and was introduced to a few new recruits as well. He finally reached the deck and looked at the vast ocean. He closed his eyes, feeling the breeze and the spray of the sea. He sensed where he was on the planet and he turned to see on the port side of the ship the beautiful structure.

The Golden Gate Bridge.

A/N: I try to be as loyal to the character personalities as I can be, even with the change in circumstances. I hope you enjoyed the fic. Hopefully I’ll post more in the future.

Is Genre a Four-Letter Word?

Here are the plots to three novels: can you tell which are fantasy novels? * The son of a twisted duke is killed in a bizarre accident, and his innocent fiancée finds herself a prisoner of a haunted castle, pursued by the duke himself. Only the strange, twisting corridors of Otranto can save her now, where statues cry bloody tears and giant helmets exact their unholy revenge.

* A sailor is shipwrecked on an island and wakes up to find that ant-sized people have captured him. They dub him the “Man Mountain” and force him to do various menial tasks (like saving the entire kingdom with his own urine), until, terrified by his potential power, decide to kill him and parcel off his body to various parts of the kingdom. But the “Man Mountain” has other ideas...

* Two knights are captured in battle and thrown into a dungeon for life. Through the bars, they glimpse a garden outside tended by a beautiful woman: both of them fall madly in love with her, and vow eternal hatred on the other, since only one can lay claim to her heart. Eventually, one knight is pardoned while the other manages through subterfuge to escape. Once free, the second knight prays to Mars to assure him victory, while the other prays to Venus; both god and goddess grant each one success in love and battle. This causes quite a debate in Olympus, and Jupiter has to stand in judgment as to which lover will live with the maiden—and which will die in defeat.

So which are the fantasy novels? The answer is simple: none of them. Each one is a work of “classic literature” published by academic presses and used in tens of thousands of high school and college classrooms each year. The first one, and the trickiest, comes from Walpole’s early gothic novel, The Castle of Otranto (1764). The second, a little more familiar to most, is from Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels (1726). And the final one, a plot which the author borrowed, and which Shakespeare also stole for a very late play, is from “The Knight’s Tale,” the very first installment of The Canterbury Tales (1476). So search as you will through the fantasy and science fiction section of the bookstore (or clicking through the same section in Amazon), you won’t find a single copy of these books. They’re all great literature, classics, poetry, or the more popular term, literary fiction.

And yet, if someone borrowed one of those plots today to weave together a novel where an astronaut lands on a strange planet of tiny aliens who abduct him, would that also be literary fiction? Or even just “fiction”? No, it would be science fiction, genre fiction, and to some people, merely “pulp fiction.” The same is true for any number of books with knights, haunted castles, shipwrecked sailors, or indeed, most works set in the ancient past. Fantasy. Juvenile literature. Maybe Young Adult at best. The implication is that these plots aren’t sufficiently literary to engage our minds or to make us think, feel, and examine the “human drama” that continues to be enacted.

Unless, of course, a book sells particularly well...then people start hedging their bets. The Harry Potter books, for example, have always held a respected place in the fantasy section...though you can also find them in Young Adult and mainstream fiction (depending on the bookstore). Or what about The Martian? Basically Robinson Crusoe set on Mars...yet you will rarely find it in the science fiction section. No, it’s “fiction” through and through. Why? Simply because it sells well and people like it—and that goes for people who have never watched an episode of Star Trek or read ten pages of Dune. So if a plot doesn’t doom a novel to a specific genre, why is that so often the case in traditional publishing? Why isn’t Frank Herbert (who wrote the Dune books) also found in fiction, when his books are more complex and interesting than The Martian, and why does J.K. Rowling get the literary mantle when it is forever denied to someone like Clifford Simak or Robert E. Howard (both of whom have sold countless books themselves)?

(Herbert’s Dune series pictured above). In the end, the problem lies with the bugbear of “realism,” which is hilarious given that we’re talking about fiction. If a book isn’t sufficiently realistic then it is seen as less important, or less serious, than the more “sensible” books in the market. Even among the science fiction community, there is often great snobbery about books that don’t pay tribute to hard science and instead fall back on the softer science of Star Wars (I’ve heard day-long debates on whether or not ‘parsecs’ is a measurement of speed or distance—as in Han’s comment, “it made the Kessel Run in less than 5 parsecs”). The Martian is given a pass since it’s composed of wall-to-wall hard science—and very impressively, too. Yet Dune, which is far less technical when it comes to “folding space” is seen as a talky space opera which is more suitable for nerdy preteens than your local biology professor.

Of course, fantasy is also expected to worship at the altar of realism—we need psychologically believable characters who are always consistent and plausible (and preferably, anti-heroes). With realism goes an expectation of defying the conventional tropes, even if doing so becomes a convention in itself: every heroine is a badass, basically usurping the ‘male’ role and saving the day. Wonderful on the face of it, but what about a novel that goes back to older traditions and stories? The beauty of folklore and fairy tales is their defiant refusal to make sense: characters act strangely, as in a dream; events appear and disappear following their own logic, and it’s the work of the reader to stitch them together. God help the modern novelist who attempts such innovation! Surely there are some women who long to be princesses, or who would rather be magic users, or bards, or scholars? Does ever hero or heroine have to wield a sword to be “heroic”? Is kicking ass the only way to “kick ass”?

Worse still, if you use magic, it had better work like science! The idea that magic should follow strict rules and laws probably comes from role playing games, where it does by necessity...but this is storytelling! In the Arthurian Legends, does Merlin explain the logistics of his spellcraft? What about Circe? Do we see the actual recipe that goes into her spells transforming men into beasts? Of course not. It’s fiction, fantasy, make-believe. The sense of wonder and mystery that surrounds it is half the fun, and all the author’s intention (whoever they were). If magic existed, I imagine it would work differently for each person, much the way writing does. No one writes the same way, or understands exactly how it works. It just does. That’s why there are so many self-help books for authors, most of them contradicting each other. Would it be any different for magic and magicians?

While we all like to read a story and believe in it—Coleridge called it the “willing suspension of disbelief”—we can also take it too far. An agent once told me that Young Adult readers will only read a heroine that is the same age as they are, more or less. They want to see themselves in the novel, like wearing a costume and playing make-believe. I couldn’t disagree more. I never read to wear borrowed clothes. I read to be a spy—I want to peek on a world of wonders that I don’t personally take part in, and that looks nothing like myself. I don’t need to see myself writ large (or small) in a novel; I just want to experience something mysterious and divine, or else see the mysterious and divine in the world around me. Either one will do, but I’m not a literary narcissist; I want to read beyond and outside myself. And I don’t demand that the books make sense or follow the rules of my own world. I only ask for one thing and even that is negotiable: make me never want to close the book. Keep me turning the pages in wonder, delight, confusion, anger, and frustration. Any story that does that, in any genre, has done its work.

In conclusion, I will admit that works of fantasy and science fiction (even if they’re not classified as such) tend to keep me turning the pages more than others. I read widely and in every possible style and genre, but nothing excites me more than a story set in the distant past or the far-flung future. These are stories that simply delight me. Even when they’re old, they seem brand new. The very cover of a castle enveloped by mist with twin moons on the horizon makes me eager to crack open the book and get lost in the pages. I wager that a lot of people would feel the same if we removed the stigma of genre of “fantasy” (or whatever other genre). Look at the run-away popularity of the Lord of the Rings movies; everyone seemed to love them, even people who would have gagged at the very sight of a hard bound copy of The Simarillion. Why? Because films are almost genre neutral, as we also see with superhero films (how many fans of Wolverine actually own any X-Men comics?); the point being, that when we look at books as books, and fiction as fiction, we expand our horizons. We look at stories, and not types or genres or categories.

Reading is fun. It makes life worth living. So why reduce it to a dry set of analytics or algorithms? Only a complete idiot thinks that numbers can encompass the diverse reasons that we read and value art. Or not “idiots”—that’s too strong a term. Let’s call them “people who don’t read books.”

new fic! The Great Prophecy (Annabeth, genfic)

Summary: When ten-year-old Annabeth watches her best friend get a quest, she sneaks into the attic to see the Oracle, hoping for a prophecy that will start her on a quest of her own. What she gets, however, is much more than she bargained for. 

The mood in the mess hall was celebratory. The Hermes table, already the most crowded, was even more boisterous than usual as everyone else kept stopping by to toast Luke before he headed off on his quest the next day. His two chosen companions, Tyler and Abby, were getting a lot of thumps on their backs as well. Annabeth was less than thrilled. She felt a bit like a bad friend, not being totally supportive of Luke, but she couldn't help the wave of jealousy pulsing through her. How could she, when he'd gotten something she'd coveted for years? 

Ever since she'd come to Camp Half-Blood, Annabeth had been determined to prove she was clever and brave, worthy of her mother Athena's legacy and her friend Thalia's sacrifice. Three years ago, Thalia had died and become a tree while fighting monsters in order to save Annabeth's life. Annabeth felt like she had to do something to show she'd been worth protecting. For years, she'd watched campers get chosen to complete quests for the gods and return as heroes. Quest heroes were the best the camp had to offer: demigods who had proven themselves in the world. And now Luke was getting a chance. This morning, the god Hermes had come to Chiron, the camp's activity director, with the quest, and Chiron had bestowed it on Luke. It was an incredible task, too: stealing a golden apple from the Garden of the Hesperides. Annabeth didn't know why Hermes might want the apple, but the very act was one that required strength and smarts. Luke and his companions would first have to locate the garden, work out how to get by the guardians, and then fight the dragon that guarded the apple tree. Only Heracles had ever done it before. If Luke succeeded, he would be lauded a hero worthy of the legendary demigod himself. Annabeth felt sure that if she had the chance to go along, she'd be able to help. She was excellent at strategy. After all, hadn't it been her strategy that had won her cabin the laurels for two consecutive capture the flag games this summer? She'd studied Ancient Greek history extensively and committed dozens of stories to memory. She knew all about mythological beasts and legendary journeys. She'd trained really hard at all the camp activities, even those she didn't think very useful. (Like the lava climbing wall—what good was rock-climbing against a monster? But Chiron promised it would help her, and so Annabeth made sure she had one of the best scaling times among the campers.) She'd been a camper for three years, the same as Luke—as long as some of the cabin counsellors even. Luke himself, whom everyone said was the best sword-fighter the camp had seen in three hundred years, said that she was an excellent fighter. And yet, Luke had picked Tyler and Abby over her. It wasn't fair. Dinner ended and the campers trooped back to the cabins, still in high spirits. Chiron had suggested that Luke, Tyler, and Abby have an early night so that they could set off bright and early. Annabeth saw Tyler—a son of Ares—disappear into cabin four while Luke and Abby entered cabin eleven with the rest of the Hermes group. She sat on the steps of cabin six and pouted, feeling too put out to go to bed. Before long, a shadow fell over her. Luke's lanky form stood in front of her, silhouetted in the moonlight. He was really tall, and he used to be wiry like her, but in the last year, he'd filled out a lot and put on some muscle. 'Hey,' he said. Annabeth kept pouting. 'You're not still pissed, are you, Annabeth?' He sighed when she still didn't reply, and sat down next to her. 'This quest is going to be dangerous, Annabeth,' Luke said. 'I know that! But I can fight! Don't you think I'm good enough?' 'It's not that. I just think that … well, you mean a lot to me, okay, Annabeth? It was you, me, and Thalia, and with Thalia …' He glanced up to the hill where the pine tree that had once been their friend stood. 'Anyway, I don't want anything to happen to you. I didn't like what the prophecy I got said.' 'What prophecy? What did it say?' 'The prophecy from the Oracle, of course. You can't have a quest without a prophecy. Even after Chiron told me what Hermes wanted, I had to go to the attic—that's where the Oracle lives—and get my prophecy.' 'What was she like? What did she say?' Luke looked a bit uncomfortable. 'She's—well, she's not exactly alive. She's like a mummy or something … like, not the wrapped in bandages kind, but all withered and … oh, I'm not sure how to explain it. But she's really creepy. And I had to ask her to tell me my destiny. It was actually kind of scary. There was a lot of green smoke. It just came out of her and made some vision.' 'So you saw what would happen?' 'I … I'm not exactly sure. I got a couple of rhyming lines and I saw some stuff I didn't really understand. But Chiron said prophecies are like that—all vague and full of stuff that won't make sense until it actually happens.' 'Maybe if you tell me, I can figure it out. I'm really good at puzzles, you know.' Luke laughed. 'I know. But it's probably like a test for me to work it out myself.' He ruffled her hair. 'Well, I really should go to bed. We're leaving at first light. But I didn't want to go with you all PO-ed at me still.' 'I'm not pissed,' Annabeth said. 'I just want to go on a quest.' 'I know you do. Just—not this one, okay? Maybe there'll be another one soon.' He returned to cabin eleven and Annabeth brooded over what he'd told her. Well, she thought, if all that was really needed for a quest was a prophecy, maybe she would just go to the Oracle and ask for one herself. She wouldn't sit around waiting for someone to decide whether she was ready. In fact, why wait? She could go right now, walk up to the Big House and climb up to the attic like Luke had done. The idea thrummed through her veins like ambrosia flowing through her bloodstream. It's probably a test, Luke had said. Maybe that was what she had to do: take her destiny into her own hands. Wasn't there a saying—the gods help those who help themselves, or something like that? She was going to help herself. OoOoO Annabeth rarely went to the Big House. It was a four-storey farmhouse that sat on the southeastern edge of camp, among the strawberry fields. Chiron lived there, as did the camp director, Mr D, who often complained bitterly about his accommodations. Although the large house seemed to have pretty decent facilities, Annabeth guessed that in comparison to Mount Olympus, Mr D's original home, even a palace would be found lacking. The campers mostly stuck to the lower floors of the Big House; the rec room was on the ground floor and the infirmary on the second. Chiron, being a centaur, had apartments in a separate wing on the ground floor, accessible through the hallway, but the third floor, which Mr D occupied, was completely sealed off. The stairs went straight up two flights from the second floor and ended under a trapdoor with a long cord dangling from it. Annabeth stood beneath it, holding up the bronze lamp she'd swiped from the porch to light her way. The green paint on the door was cracked and peeling. She almost turned back when she caught sight of the remains of several cobwebs in the corner. No, she told herself. She wouldn't chicken out now. The silky strands were torn, probably by the last person who had opened the trapdoor. The webs weren't recent. It would be okay. She took a deep breath and pulled the cord. The door fell open. A ladder dropped down, hitting the landing with a loud thump. Annabeth froze. Surely the noise was loud enough to alert Mr D to her presence. She waited, but moments passed and no irate god of wine appeared on the steps. Annabeth breathed out slowly and climbed the ladder. She was surrounded by piles of dusty memorabilia. Her lamp passed over the nearest ones—rotting body parts of monsters, old shields and plaques and various other trophies. It was obviously a collection for discarded spoils of wars. Quest trophies, Annabeth thought. They were old and disgusting, yet they meant something. There were tags hanging off the items, but it was too dark to make out anything. The room had only one window, which was dusty, and the dim moonlight filtering through was blocked by the shadow of a humanoid figure sitting before it. The Oracle. Annabeth understood why Luke had found it hard to describe her. She'd never seen anyone—anything?—like it. The woman was skeletal, with skin stretched across the bony contours of her frame that was so thin and dry that it looked as though a mere touch would cause it to crumble. Her outfit was just as ancient: a faded multi-coloured sundress that would not have been out of place at a 1940s garden party. Her skinny neck was heavily adorned with old-fashioned bead necklaces. Thick locks of lank black hair framed a withered face that seemed to be all eyes, except peering out of the sockets were milky spheres: pure white with no irises or pupils. Yet Annabeth had the sense that there was something inside them, an ominous spirit of something staring out, aware of her presence and daring her to approach. 'I …' She took another deep breath, steadied her voice, and said, 'I've come for a prophecy.' In the silence, Annabeth could hear her own heart pounding: one beat, two beats, three. Where was the vision Luke had spoken of? The green smoke? Then the Oracle shifted. Annabeth took an involuntary step back as the Oracle raised an arm towards her. But it was her own neck she reached for; one leathery fist closed around one of the rustic necklaces she wore. It fell off and toppled into her lap. Annabeth gaped as the Oracle raised her withered hand and shook a tiny pouch on the necklace. Luke hadn't said anything to suggest this might happen. Annabeth had gotten the impression that the Oracle couldn't move. A miniscule scroll fell out of the pouch and fluttered to Annabeth's feet. She picked it up and unrolled a piece of parchment that was no bigger than her palm. The writing on it was in tiny cursive script, a real pain to decipher. Annabeth had only managed to struggle through the first couple of words when billowing green smoke filled the room, making her eyes water. 'A half-blood of the eldest gods Shall reach sixteen against all odds …' 'Annabeth?' Annabeth started, jumping to her feet and knocking the bronze lamp to the ground with a loud clatter that drowned out the next lines from the Oracle. Chiron's human half popped out from the trapdoor, glaring sternly at her as the Oracle offered two final lines. 'A single choice shall end his days. Olympus to preserve to raze. The Oracle fell silent. Annabeth stared guiltily at Chiron through the lingering green haze. 'Um,' she faltered. Awkwardly, Annabeth looked down at the parchment. The words were easier to read now that she'd heard them spoken. She skimmed the first two lines and stared on the third, which she'd missed when Chiron had interrupted. 'Annabeth!' She looked up. Chiron held his hand out. Reluctantly, she handed him the parchment, which he rolled up and then handed back to her. 'Put it back, please.' She did so, popping it back in the pouch and clasping the necklace back around the now-motionless Oracle. Chiron stared at her, not saying any more, but his expression was unmistakable: explain yourself. Annabeth hung her head. 'I just wanted ... I thought ... sorry.' Her words hung in the air for a while. When she finally chanced another look at him, Chiron no longer looked angry—more weary and sorrowful. 'You shouldn't have done that,' he said at last. 'That prophecy …' 'I missed two of the lines, though. Is that bad? I'll need the whole thing for my quest, right?' 'Your quest?' Chiron shook his head. 'No, my dear, the Oracle has not given you a prophecy.' 'But … it just—' 'It gave you a prophecy, but it is not yours. Come.' He retreated to let her climb through the trapdoor. She did so reluctantly and traipsed after him downstairs and through the hallways of the Big House. Chiron held a door open for her and she stepped into what seemed to be a sitting room, except instead of couches and armchairs, plump red cushions with shaggy fringes were strewn around a high coffee table. The walls were lined with high shelves that were filled with dusty leather-bound tomes. A bow and arrow lay on one of the lower shelves. Chiron's wheelchair, the disguise he used to compact his lower centaur half away when he wanted to appear human, lounged in one corner of the room. In another corner, a vintage record player, the kind that went out of fashion decades ago, was playing softly. It was something with a chorus of wailing violins. Annabeth winced. Chiron opened a cabinet and extracted two goblets the same kind they had at dinner time in the mess hall. He set one on the coffee table in front of Annabeth, which reached nearly to her chin. 'I should probably get some bar stools for guests,' he muttered, then sighed. 'Never mind. Have a drink.' 'Um, lemon ice tea,' Annabeth told the goblet. It filled immediately. She reached up and took a tentative sip. 'The prophecy you heard,' Chiron said after filling his own goblet with a sludge-like liquid Annabeth didn't recognise, 'was in fact made nearly seventy years ago, in the 1940s. We refer to it as the Great Prophecy. In those days, the Oracle still had a mortal host. That was before Lord Hades cursed her to languish without a living receptacle.' 'Lord Hades cursed her …?' Annabeth made a face. 'But … seventy years ago … why would she make my prophecy years before I was even born to ask for it? How does that work? Was Luke's like that, too?' 'It is not your prophecy, Annabeth. Once in a blue moon, the Oracle will deliver a general prophecy that speaks not to a seeker of a quest, but lays out a destiny that is to be fulfilled. The Oracle has been carrying it around since it was made, holding on to it until the time is right.' Chiron frowned. 'It should not have been revealed.' A bubble of excitement swelled in Annabeth's chest. 'How do you know it isn't mine? Maybe now is the right time. Maybe I'm—' 'Because you cannot be the one the prophecy refers to,' Chiron said simply. 'The wording of the first two lines makes it quite clear that you are not.' 'But—' Annabeth's argument died mid-sentence as she realised Chiron was right. Her bubble deflated instantly. 'A half-blood of the eldest gods—I know prophecies are often misleading, but it is clear that this line can only refer to a child of the original Olympians, mostly likely one of the three eldest, most powerful brothers. It was this prophecy, in fact, that drove them to swear their oath against any more mortal children.' 'But they did have … well, at least one of them …' Chiron looked at her sorrowfully. 'It is a solemn thing to swear upon the River Styx as they did. An oath like that cannot be broken without dire consequences … which sometimes, sad to say, may be borne by an innocent.' 'Thalia,' whispered Annabeth. 'Was she …?' 'She seemed to be the best fit,' Chiron said. 'Alas, we both know how it ended for her.' He looked out the window and Annabeth followed his gaze over to Half-Blood Hill, where the pine tree that had once been her friend stood tall in the moonlight. 'Does that mean there is another demigod out there, a kid of the Big Three?' She ran over the lines she'd heard again and realised there was another clue in it. 'It said his days. It has to be a boy, then.' More disappointing evidence that it wasn't a quest prophecy for her after all. 'Well, we don't know that for sure. Prophecies like these tend to use pronouns in a general sense. His or her days doesn't give quite the same ring, and an Oracle needs to be pithy. All I do know, though, is that if they are out there, it's only a matter of time before the monsters find them—if they haven't already. The gods would love to destroy the child; the prophecy made them uneasy. Olympus to preserve or raze … to have their fate in the hands of a mortal … no, the gods would prefer to rid themselves of the threat. Although,' he frowned, 'prophecies are not so easily thwarted. One way or another, they always reach fulfilment. Nevertheless, even if the child of the prophecy manages to evade the forces arrayed against him—or her—their life is likely to be anything but easy. And the lines you heard … well, it doesn't give good odds for their survival.' Annabeth swallowed hard. 'If it's a prophecy for someone else, why did the Oracle tell me?' Chiron looked highly disturbed. 'I would guess that the Oracle revealed the prophecy to you because she foresees that you will have a part to play in it. While I doubt you are the central figure it refers to, I imagine you will be closely connected to them. But this is not a good thing, Annabeth. We are talking about a dark, dangerous prophecy here.' One of the lines ran through her head again: a final choice shall end his days, and she shivered, thinking again of Thalia. She'd chosen to stand against monsters to save her friends, and that had ended her days. Would this be something like that? Annabeth didn't want to be the reason for a friend's death ever again. 'I missed two of the lines, though,' she said. 'Do you know what they are?' She hoped they might offer some guidance, something she could do to help. Maybe those were the crucial bits, the parts that spelled out how she would be involved. Chiron studied her carefully. 'I do. But I do not think it would be wise to tell you now. You have heard what you were meant to. And the gods would not be happy for knowledge of the prophecy to spread. It is dangerous enough for you to know as much as you do.' He gave her a meaningful look. 'I won't tell,' she promised. 'And we will have to prepare you thoroughly for your first quest. There will be time—we have not located the child of the prophecy yet—' Annabeth brightened. 'I could go out and find him! That's my quest, isn't it?' 'No, you misunderstand me. We must train you to accompany the half-blood of the prophecy, when they are ready for their first quest.' 'Wait—you're not saying that I can't have a quest until this guy—or girl—shows up?' 'That is indeed what I am saying. I think that is the best interpretation of the Oracle's intentions in relating the prophecy to you.' Annabeth thought this seemed a pretty far-fetched assumption. 'That's not fair! I came to get a prophecy for my own quest, not someone else's. And we don't even know who this person is yet! It's not like there's kids of the Big Three everywhere. It could be years before they show up.' 'Years in which you will be trained to be the best warrior you can be,' Chiron said firmly. 'No arguments, Annabeth. You will undertake a quest with the half-blood of the prophecy and no earlier.' She glared at him mutinously and his expression grew gentler. 'You are brave, child, and you will be a great hero one day, one of the best this camp has to offer. But my job is to keep you safe and teach you the skills you will need to stay alive when your time comes.' Annabeth looked away. It was hard to rage against Chiron when he said things like that. She still felt mad that her destiny had to be tied to someone else, but maybe it would be okay. One day, hopefully soon, a hero would arrive at camp—someone brave and powerful like Thalia—and she would get her chance. Until then, she'd make sure she was the best Camp Half-Blood had to offer.

Notes: This was a little something I started writing shortly after I read the series for the first time. It sat on my hard drive unfinished for many months, and I finally picked it up again. This fic was many things—trying to understand Annabeth's (and Luke's) past better, exploring some backstory Annabeth spoke of in TLO, a bit of canon reconciliation for how Annabeth claimed not to know all of the prophecy in SoM but seemed well-versed by TLO. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing! I should also point out: I am not American, so if there's any dialogue or turns of phrase that I've mangled while trying to avoid this sounding too overtly British, I apologise, and would appreciate if you point them out! (I will be sticking with British spelling, though.)

Is Genre a Four-Letter Word?

Here are the plots to three novels: can you tell which are fantasy novels?

* The son of a twisted duke is killed in a bizarre accident, and his innocent fiancée finds herself a prisoner of a haunted castle, pursued by the duke himself. Only the strange, twisting corridors of Otranto can save her now, where statues cry bloody tears and giant helmets exact their unholy revenge.

* A sailor is shipwrecked on an island and wakes up to find that ant-sized people have captured him. They dub him the “Man Mountain” and force him to do various menial tasks (like saving the entire kingdom with his own urine), until, terrified by his potential power, decide to kill him and parcel off his body to various parts of the kingdom. But the “Man Mountain” has other ideas...

* Two knights are captured in battle and thrown into a dungeon for life. Through the bars, they glimpse a garden outside tended by a beautiful woman: both of them fall madly in love with her, and vow eternal hatred on the other, since only one can lay claim to her heart. Eventually, one night is pardoned while the other manages through subterfuge to escape. Once free, the second knight prays to Mars to assure him victory, while the other prays to Venus; both god and goddess grant each one success in love and battle. This causes quite a debate in Olympus, and Jupiter has to stand in judgment as to which lover will live with the maiden—and which will die in defeat.

So which are the fantasy novels? The answer is simple: none of them. Each one is a work of “classic literature” published by academic presses and used in tens of thousands of high school and college classrooms each year. The first one, and the trickiest, comes from Walpole’s early gothic novel, The Castle of Otranto (1764). The second, a little more familiar to most, is from Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels (1726). And the final one, a plot which the author borrowed, and which Shakespeare also stole for a very late play, is from “The Knight’s Tale,” the very first installment of The Canterbury Tales (1476). So search as you will through the fantasy and science fiction section of the bookstore (or clicking through the same section in Amazon), you won’t find a single copy of these books. They’re all great literature, classics, poetry, or the more popular term, literary fiction.

And yet, if someone borrowed one of those plots today to weave together a novel where an astronaut lands on a strange planet of tiny aliens who abduct him, would that also be literary fiction? Or even just “fiction”? No, it would be science fiction, genre fiction, and to some people, merely “pulp fiction.” The same is true for any number of books with knights, haunted castles, shipwrecked sailors, or indeed, most works set in the ancient past. Fantasy. Juvenile literature. Maybe Young Adult at best. The implication is that these plots aren’t sufficiently literary to engage our minds or to make us think, feel, and examine the “human drama” that continues to be enacted.

Unless, of course, a book sells particularly well...then people start hedging their bets. The Harry Potter books, for example, have always held a respected place in the fantasy section...though you can also find them in Young Adult and mainstream fiction (depending on the bookstore). Or what about The Martian? Basically Robinson Crusoe (which reads like fantasy) set on Mars...yet you will rarely find it in the science fiction section. No, it’s “fiction” through and through. Why? Simply because it sells well and people like it—and that goes for people who have never watched an episode of Star Trek or read ten pages of Dune. So if a plot doesn’t doom a novel to a specific genre, why is that so often the case in traditional publishing? Why isn’t Frank Herbert (who wrote the Dune books) also found in fiction, when his books are quite more complex and interesting than The Martian, and why does J.K. Rowling get the literary mantle when it is forever denied to someone like Clifford Simak or Robert E. Howard (both of whom have sold countless books themselves)?

In the end, the problem lies with the bugbear of “realism,” which is hilarious given that we’re talking about fiction. If a book isn’t sufficiently realistic then it is seen as less important, or less serious, than the more “sensible” books in the market. Even among the science fiction community, there is often great snobbery about books that don’t pay tribute to hard science and instead fall back on the softer science of Star Wars (I’ve heard day-long debates on whether or not ‘parsecs’ is a measurement of speed or distance—as in Han’s comment, “it made the Kessel Run in less than 5 parsecs”). The Martian is given a pass since it’s composed of wall-to-wall hard science—and very impressively, too. Yet Dune, which is far less technical when it comes to “folding space” is seen as a talky space opera which is more suitable for nerdy preteens than your local biology professor.

Of course, fantasy is also expected to worship at the altar of realism—we need psychologically believable characters who are always consistent and plausible (and preferably, anti-heroes). With realism goes an expectation of defying the conventional tropes, even if doing so becomes a convention in itself: every heroine is a badass, basically usurping the ‘male’ role and saving the day. Wonderful on the face of it, but what about a novel that goes back to older traditions and stories? The beauty of folklore and fairy tales is their defiant refusal to make sense: characters act strangely, as in a dream; events appear and disappear following their own logic, and it’s the work of the reader to stitch them together. God help the modern novelist who attempts such innovation! Surely there are some women who long to be princesses, or who would rather be magic users, or bards, or scholars? Does ever hero or heroine have to wield a sword to be “heroic”? Is kicking ass the only way to “kick ass”?

Worse still, if you use magic, it had better work like science! The idea that magic should follow strict rules and laws probably comes from role playing games, where it does by necessity...but this is storytelling! In the Arthurian Legends, does Merlin explain the logistics of his spellcraft? What about Circe? Do we see the actual recipe that goes into her spells transforming men into beasts? Of course not. It’s fiction, fantasy, make-believe. The sense of wonder and mystery that surrounds it is half the fun, and all the author’s intention (whoever they were). If magic existed, I imagine it would work differently for each person, much the way writing does. No one writes the same way, or understands exactly how it works. It just does. That’s why there are so many self-help books for authors, most of them contradicting each other. Would it be any different for magic and magicians?

While we all like to read a story and believe in it—Coleridge called it the “willing suspension of disbelief”—we can also take it too far. An agent once told me that Young Adult readers will only read a heroine that is the same age as they are, more or less. They want to see themselves in the novel, like wearing a costume and playing make-believe. I couldn’t disagree more. I never read to wear borrowed clothes. I read to be a spy—I want to peek on a world of wonders that I don’t personally take part in, and that looks nothing like myself. I don’t need to see myself writ large (or small) in a novel; I just want to experience something mysterious and divine, or else see the mysterious and divine in the world around me. Either one will do, but I’m not a literary narcissist; I want to read beyond and outside myself. And I don’t demand that the books make sense or follow the rules of my own world. I only ask for one thing and even that is negotiable: make me never want to close the book. Keep me turning the pages in wonder, delight, confusion, anger, and frustration. Any story that does that, in any genre, has done its work.

In conclusion, I will admit that works of fantasy and science fiction (even if they’re not classified as such) tend to keep me turning the pages more than others. I read widely and in every possible style and genre, but nothing excites me more than a story set in the distant past or the far-flung future. These are stories that simply delight me. Even when they’re old, they seem brand new. Even the cover of a castle enveloped by mist with twin moons on the horizon makes me eager to crack open the book and get lost in the pages. I wager that a lot of people would feel the same if we removed the stigma of genre of “fantasy” (or whatever other genre). Look at the run-away popularity of the Lord of the Rings movies; everyone seemed to love them, even people who would have gagged at the very sight of a hard bound copy of The Simarillion. Why? Because films are almost genre neutral, as we also see with superhero films (how many fans of Wolverine actually own any X-Men comics?); the point being, that when we look at books as books, and fiction as fiction, we expand our horizons. We look at stories, and not types or genres or categories.

Reading is fun. It makes life worth living. So why reduce it to a dry set of analytics or algorithms? Only a complete idiot thinks that numbers can encompass the diverse reasons that we read and value art. Or not “idiots”—that’s too strong a term. Let’s call them “people who don’t read books.”