between the veils of reality (i stand)

by lukcylittleflower

Summary:

The wars didn’t go without consequences. With so many ancient forces stirring, something was bound to crack—and that something might just be reality itself.

Percy Jackson doesn’t know that yet.
All he knows is that the ocean’s been way too clingy, his dreams are extra weird, and he’s pretty sure he just teleported to save a turtle named Jeff.

Just another random Thursday.

 

Or: a Percy-goes-to-Hogwarts fic featuring magic whiplash, emotionally constipated teenagers, minor existential crises, demigods being menaces, Voldemort becoming even more unhinged, accidental bonding, and Percy unraveling the laws of existence before lunch.

(basically, just another percy in Hogwarts fic but the author is sleep deprived and obsessed with both agnst and humor)

Chapter 1: wasn't the ocean

A massive castle loomed above him in the distance, glimmering in the moonlight. Even at his distance, Percy could see the huge gothic windows, the fancy arcs and the ornate pillars making up a truly impressive facade. Huge towers peeked from the high ceilings, and oh the poor souls that would need to go all the way up. He really hoped there were some sort of elevator or such, though he wouldn't get his hopes up considering the architecture of the place.

 

The gravel and the batted dirt crunched under his feet as he slowly made his way up to the castle through the sloping path. Percy didn't actually know where he was supposed to go, but it felt right, so up he went.

 

As he followed the path, he couldn't help but wonder why his dreams would lead him there. The architecture he had seen had nothing to do with the traditional Greek one Percy grew to expect in visions of the distant past, and it definitely didn't resemble anywhere close to home – Percy was almost positive there wasn't a goddamn gothic castle anywhere near New York.

 

Could it be a vision of somewhere in the middle ages? No, he could feel the plumbing running below the castle's grounds and running up the walls. It couldn't be too far from the present.

 

When the demigod finally reached the entrance – years of training and world-ending quests conditioned him far too well for him to lose his breath over this, but why it had to be so dam tall– he couldn't help but let out a low whistle at the sight.

 

A long stone staircase led to, honestly, giant oak doors (he was pretty sure he could fit his whole mother's apartment just in those doors), surrounded by the arcs he had spotted earlier, which were even prettier from up close, where he could see the small intricate details adorning them. Combined with the gardens surrounding it, Percy wouldn't have been surprised if someone told him the castle had come straight out of a fantasy book.

 

Annabeth would've loved it.

 

Now that he stopped to think about it, it was the perfect place to go on a date. They could stretch a picnic towel over the soft grass and bring some snacks, then Percy would watch her ramble about the architecture of the place the whole afternoon and pretend he actually understood it when he only really wanted to see the way her face lit up in moments like those. It would be perfect.

 

Now he only needed to discover where he was.

 

Percy slowly crept forward, captivated by the oak doors. He could now feel the distinct sprinkle of magic running up his skin. The whole place, he realized, was practically radiating magic and power, almost like it was rolling out of the castle in waves.

 

Though it wasn't like the one he usually associated with greek related stuff.

 

This one felt… more compact, more delicate, less… free. It felt like someone had shot millions of little sparks of magic and created a big mesh, instead of the wild, dense mass he came to associate with Greek magic. Not even the Hecate's kids (and mist users) magic gave off this type feeling.

 

The closer Percy got, the more he felt the distinct sprinkle of magic running up his skin. It made something deep inside him stir, something he couldn't quite put his finger to. Even as his whole body screamed at him to stop and go back, this part was almost begging for him to go forward, to push open those doors, to go… home.

 

As Percy neared the doors, the sparks became almost painful, his entire being screaming at him to just turn and run as fast as he could. But now that this… thing felt how close it was to getting home, it was almost as if it had created a life of its own, propelling him forwards, toward those huge oak doors that emanated this magic that was so right and yet so wrong at the same time.

 

He strode up the last step up the staircase. The sparks started straight up to hurt, like they knew he didn't belonged there and was trying to push Percy away, far from there. The demigod would've done so gladly, but it was almost like he had lost control over his body.

 

That thing, that thing Percy knew was somehow a part of him, even as his whole body repulsed at the mere sight of it, took the last steps towards the doors. It was drinking gladly the painful sparks at his skin, like they were long lost friends, like it was finally reuniting with its kin.

 

Unbidden, his arm rose and pushed against the doors.

 

Then it was like a dam bursted inside of him.

 

Percy's knees hit the ground hard as his vision began to swim. His ears started to ring and he could swear someone was trying to crack open his skull with a fucking hammer. He felt as if he was in war with himself, that thing pushing against his nature, begging to be released. It began to crawl its way through his blood, craving its path with pure force.

 

He couldn't see, he couldn't breathe, it hurt. It began to burn through his veins, pushing to the surface, pushing through his very core to be let out, uncaring of the trail it would leave in its way.

 

He was burning, the ichor in his veins screaming in outrage, the thing mixing with his blood, spilling into his essence and burning, and burning, and burning–

 

Percy woke up with a shout, the feeling of burning following him into awareness like smoke in his skin.

 

 

---

 

 

The demigod plopped down into cabin three's table with a sigh. He stared at his blue pancakes. He was pretty sure they stared back.

 

Rude.

 

Percy knew he looked like a trainwreck, but people were allowed to have bad days okay? He briefly considered skipping breakfast but a mere glance up and that hope flew out of the window.

 

Annabeth was already there watching him all the way from table six like a hawk (owl?). She was amazing like that, he guessed. His girlfriend would notice even the slightest shift in his emotions, and now… well it sure wasn't being subtle.

 

Percy pointedly ignored her eyes boring into his back the whole way during breakfast. He methodically ate the pancakes, ignoring the way they tasted like ash. Not even the fact that the pancakes were blue were able to lift his appetite today.

 

He pushed his plate away, the last bite abandoned. Percy felt a little bad for just abandoning it there, but, hey, at least he made it almost all the way through. Small victories.

 

With all the force of will he could conjure in that moment (albeit it wasn't much), Percy pushed himself to his feet and walked across the pavilion to table six, giving Annabeth a slightly strained smile to where she was talking with one of her newer half-sisters – Gabi. She was a recent addition to the cabin, but she seemed to be doing well enough. He received a raised eyebrow in turn. Yeah, Annabeth definitely hadn't bought it.

 

Usually, Percy stayed a little bit at her table to spend some quality time, but today a kiss, a good morning wise girl and an I love you had to be enough, especially because he had to brush off her concern at least three times in that twenty seconds. Percy had made sure to give her an extra long kiss as compensation though – the chorus of gagging noises they got was just a bonus.

 

He knew Annabeth was going to ask about it later either way, and this probably only raised her suspicions, but, really, Percy wasn't in the mood of talking about much of anything now, especially about what he was almost positive she'd ask about. Percy was pretty sure his half-baked excuse of needing to check something in the shoreline at eight am didn't help his case though.

 

He needed to clear his head.

 

The walk to the shoreline was fairly peaceful. Percy passed the Stoll brothers and pretended he didn't see them messing with the prized boutique items that probably cost hundreds of dollars hidden in a secret compartment in cabin ten's walls – how they even knew they were there he would never know. Percy himself only knew because Piper once forced him to watch a full lecture about what all of them did, which ones would do good for him and how much potential he actually had (Percy couldn't remember even half of it).

 

He also passed Clarisse on the way. She was teaching some fancy spear moves to the newer campers. A kid tripped on their own spear. Clarisse had looked like she had lost faith in their kind.

 

She flipped him off when she caught him snickering from the distance without even breaking eye contact with the poor kid she was now scolding. Percy, as the responsible teenager he was, returned in kin without missing a beat. You know, mature relationships and all that.

 

He kept walking, the hustle of camp growing quieter with each step. Camp was weird, sure, but in a comfortable-chaotic kind of way. Percy knew he’d probably dodge two potentially lethal daggers before lunch, but also that he’d be singing off-key to Apollo cabin’s campfire songs and chucking marshmallows at someone by sunset.

 

As he neared the shoreline, the sounds from camp seemed to slowly fade. The characteristic clang of swords, the kids yelling and the occasional scream of terror (probably Stoll-related) dissolved until they were no more than an echo. Not that he was complaining.

 

There was just him, the waves lapping against the shore, and the occasional sea breeze ruffling some wild strands of hair off his face as the worn dirty path under his feet slowly faded into soft sand, stubbornly sticking itself between his toes from where he'd abandoned his shoes somewhere along the way.

 

Percy took a deep breath, and dived.

 

He could’ve cried from relief alone, just from the feeling of the saltwater sweeping through his skin. The sea welcomed him like he was a part of it – which, technically speaking, he was. For a single moment, it almost felt like he could wash everything away: the dream, the buzzing in his ear that hadn't quite left him since, the sense of wrong-ness that had been pressing at him that whole day – on those waves if he tried hard enough.

 

Percy let himself slowly drift in the calm waves, basking in the sunlight draping over his skin while riptides curled around his feet with a grip that bordered on possessive.

 

Against all good sense, Percy allowed his mind to wander.

 

That dream. That dream. Call him a paranoid bastard all you want, but Percy had been dealing with demigod dreams for as long as he could remember. As much as it pained him to admit, it hadn't been just a weird nightmare – it had been something else entirely. And Percy really didn't want to dwell on the implications of that.

 

Everytime he even thought about it, he felt as if someone had thrown ice down his spine – a profound feeling of wrong drowning every other thought from his head, leaving only an inexplicable dread clinging to him. Percy may not have the sharpest instincts out there, but even he could tell this was definitely not normal.

 

He had tried hard not to think about it, but, behind all that pretending, Percy knew that whatever happened in that dream hadn't been just a dream.

 

It was in the way the feeling had lingered even hours after he'd woken up, in the way it had made frost creep up his back, in the way it had alighted his veins in fire in a way that no other thing did, in the way it had settled in his body but never quite gone away, in the way he could still hear it singing for him, like it resting just below the surface, just looking for an excuse to come out and, and-

 

Something poked him.

 

Percy's eyes flew open with a cough, coming face to face with a very worried looking hammer shark.

 

He blinked.

 

The shark blinked back.

 

She hovered just a few feet above from where he'd sunk all the way to the ocean floor – and Percy was gladly going to ignore that he had absolutely no clue how he ended down there, thank you very much.

 

The hammerhead nudged him again, her googly-eyed face practically radiating concern.

 

Percy let out a long breath, saltwater bubbling from his nose. "Hey buddy, what you're doing here?" he said, gently petting her head.

 

Percy didn't even know sharks could look that unimpressed.

 

“C'mon girl, I'm fine. There's no need to give me those eyes.”

 

Shelly, the hammerhead, didn't seem convinced with his incredible excuse, but it would have to make do. A lot of encouraging I'm fines and head pets were needed for her to finally resolve he was deemed well enough to be left without her supervision, though he would like to inform that the side-eyes she threw him while swimming away were very much not subtle.

 

The demigod hauled himself to a sitting position groggily, the sand under his palms providing just enough of a sting to remind him that he was, in fact, wide awake, and currently at the bottom of the sea. Percy dragged a hand down his face with a sigh.

 

Shit, how long had he been down there? If Percy was already worried about Annabeth dragging him to an interrogation room because of breakfast you could almost consider him a dead man by now.

 

He tilted his head up to the water above, sparing a moment to wonder at it. The sun was in the perfect position, causing fractured sun rays to shine through the waves all the way to the bottom, providing an almost dream-like glow to the sea. You know, it was in moments like this that Percy remembered that as much as his flashy water powers and enchanted reflexes were cool, sometimes, this was what actually made being a Poseidon's kid worth it – well, at least for him. This doesn't mean he could be spending his time philosophizing about it on a random Thursday though.

 

As much as it tempted him to just lay back down and become one with the sand, Percy pushed himself to his feet with a sigh and swam to the surface, breaking through the six feet waves that seemed to have appeared from thin air like they were nothing. Being a counselor had its perks, but it wasn't exactly free. He had sword fighting lessons to teach – and dealing with an irate Clarisse for being late plus a sad Annabeth was definitely not on his agenda.

 

The demigod dried himself as soon as he stepped onto the sand, though he purposefully left his hair wet – that August heat was no joke, man. He glanced up, scanning the beach for any sign of his shoes.

 

Great. Percy could've sworn he had left them somewhere on that dune. If some dryad thought it was funny to hide them again, he swore-

 

A panicked scream tore through his mind, and suddenly nothing else mattered.

 

His eyes darted around for the source, locking on a little baby turtle scrambling at the base of the dune. A second too late, Percy spotted the hawk plummeting in a straight dive to it – fast. Almost faster than he could see.

 

A heartbeat later, Percy was already sprinting.

 

Riptide was useless with regular animals so throwing it was out of the question. But he couldn't let that precious baby die. Not on his watch.

 

He reached for the sea, making a desperate bid for a tendril of water – but it was too far. Too slow.

 

The hawk was barely 5 feet away from the turtle. He wasn't going to make it.

 

Percy needed something, anything, or that little baby was going to die-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He was on all fours on the sand.

 

Something scratched against his shoulder, and blood began to swell from the wound.

 

Percy looked down under him. The turtle was there. It looked back with wonder shining in its eyes.

 

He threw up.

 

What the fuck?

 

Percy wiped his mouth, ignoring the way his hand shook. His head was spinning. There was blood trickling down his shirt. The turtle was looking up at him like he'd just witnessed a miracle. Jeff. His name was Jeff.

 

He remembered wishing for any way to be able to save that baby. He–he was trying to urge the water faster, even if he knew it wouldn't be enough. Percy just couldn't let Jeff die. So he'd pushed even harder… until something finally complied.

 

But it hadn't been the ocean.

 

He didn't even know how to describe it. He didn't even know what it was.

 

There was a crack. And then it was like someone had decided to shove him into a fucking hose at 437 mph with absolutely zero caution – compressing his lungs, spreading him thin, squishing – only to squeeze it until he came out at the other end; that happened to be just where the turtle was. One second he was yards away and the next he was here. Just in time for that fucking hawk to scratch him, too.

 

You know what? Nope. Percy wasn’t going to touch that even with a ten-foot pole. Weird shit happened to him all the time — this was just another entry under the 'What the actual fuck' column. That’s it.

 

Percy was seriously starting to consider just abandoning life by pissing Mr. D enough that he turned him into kelp. It was a pretty solid alternative, in his opinion.

 

He shifted until he was sitting on his ankles. Jeff, the turtle, was still looking up at him like Percy was the new fish Jesus or something. Oh, forget it, he started to move. Uh, didn't he know the water was that way…? Okay, babies were stupid sometimes, no problem, Percy would get him to the sea himself-

 

 

 

……

 

 

 

…………

 

 

 

Jeff licked his vomit. Percy was done.

Notes:

hi to everyone that decided to read this fic!! this is my first fic, so thank you veryyyy much for being here :)!! I know this trope of percy going to Hogwarts is a bit of a cliche already, but i promise u i have really big plans for it heheheheh. and um into the actual notes for this fic now >:)

percy 100% would get sad of leaving only a bite of food left, like, he practically separated the bite from all its family and then just abandoned it on his plate (yes this is a completely normal way of thinking)

I think u guys can tell but I just love percy and annabeth sm I cant their relationship is so important to me they're my babies

also the fact that rick didnt expand on percy camp life and just camp life in general is an absolute crime, like the possibilities are ENDLESS.

shelly the hammerhead is the true icon of this fic in case u guys dont know

 

so, I reallyyyy hope u guys liked this chapter, and PLEASE let me know what u guys thought in the comments cause they feed my soul lmao. i wish a good evening, night, morning idk to all of u!

jeff says bye.

Chapter 2: fever

Summary:

Percy was lying on his stomach, absently twirling his fingers in the water as it rose and danced up and down his hand, when Annabeth plopped down beside him with a sigh, resting her head on his back. He let out a soft oooff, and she just giggled at him.

 

“Why‘re you laughing at me? You don't get the right to be mean when you're using me as a pillow, Wise Girl,” Percy pouted at her.

 

She just giggled more, a sweet and radiant sound he knew Annabeth reserved just for him, and it was almost enough for him to forgive her. Almost.

Notes:

hello again everyone!!!!

first of all, just, thank you guys so, so much for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks!! you guys literally made me cry lmao i don't even have words :')

as for this chapter... it just... totally escaped my control. i had things i needed to happen in this chapter and it simply wouldn't end even when i cut the plot points in half. it just didn't stop. i mean at least the word count is worth the wait i hope lmao.

and yes the ao3 curse is very fucking real and its half the reason this chapter is going out as late as it is. the same day i posted this i got the flu, and it got so bad the yellow thing literally started to come out from my eyes. couldn't write. 0/10. beware of the curse guys.

i think i already rambled a bit too much, so, um to the actual chapter yay!

Percy was, in fact, late to the sword fighting lesson.

 

He tried okay? He really tried – the complete combo of running halfway across the camp with only one shoe while trying to put the other one on and all – but sometimes, cough, his whole life, cough, the Morai were simply not on his side.

 

Percy stumbled into the training arena with all the grace of a dying seagull, bangs falling in messy waves on his face and breath coming in ragged gasps (his sweet parting gift from… that place: a permanent lung condition), nearly tripping over the shoelaces that must've untied somewhere along the way.

 

Maybe he could just sneak in and pretend he'd been there the whole time and Clarisse was just blind…

 

The look she sent his way was enough to make a giant drop his weapon and then impale himself in it, but Percy, being him, just dropped the act and shot Clarisse a rueful grin.

 

She beckoned him over with two menacing fingers, and, properly chastised, he scooted closer, waving to the campers they were going to train today with a smile. It was Thursday, meaning it was mostly the newer ones. From what he could see, at least half of them were already on the ground panting and puffing from Clarrise's warm up.

 

Good.

 

(He made sure to give approving nods to the ones still standing though).

 

“Did you have fun on the beach, Jackson?” Clarisse hissed, wearing a scowl that Percy was pretty sure she inherited directly from Ares himself. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her.

 

“Pretty much, yes, La rue,” Percy retorted, and her spear crackled with electricity.

 

In truth, he'd had the furthest of fun you can get, but there was no way in Hades he was going to pass up the opportunity to taunt Clarisse.

 

She looked one second away from tackling him into the dirt – and probably would've if he hadn't gestured to the disaster brewing in front of them: a restless crowd of untrained demigods (pure chaos) holding very real and pointy swords (somehow even worse chaos).

 

Percy had to bite back a smirk. He could almost hear the wood of Clarrise's spear groaning from how tightly she gripped it to stop herself from decking him. The glare she shot at him was positively murderous, and he had no doubt she was going to absolutely obliterate him during wrestling later – but, honestly? Totally worth it.

 

After a very long, deliberate calming breath and an, honest to gods, barely suppressed snarl, Clarisse seemed to (reluctantly) come to terms with the fact that she couldn't beat his ass right now and decided to address the slightly bigger matter at hand instead.

 

She turned to the crowd and took some steps towards the center of the arena, taking full advantage of her heavy boots by stomping them hard enough to echo, which was enough to bring the attention back to them.

 

“A’right you punks. Now that this asshole is finally here,” she said to the group, giving him what was possibly the stinkiest stink eye from demigod history, “we can actually get to the good ‘tuff.”

 

Clarisse gestured to him expectantly and Percy stepped forward, clapping his hands together.

 

“Okay, kiddos”– a universal groan came out of every single one of them –“everyone pairing up and copying me and Miss Clarisse here.”

 

Percy was pretty sure Clarrise's spear would've already snapped clean in half if it wasn't enchanted.

 

All the campers moved to go to position with what was way less fanfare than Percy expected, and he cast a look at Clarisse and then her weapon. “Drop the spear, La Rue. In case you didn't notice, your spear lesson has already ended,” Percy said in the cockiest way he could muster, and, oh gods, Clarisse was so going to murder him, but it will be worth it.

 

“What if I shove this spear down your throat instead, Jackson?” she almost growled, jabbing the spear into the ground where his feet had been barely half a second earlier. He'd yelped and dodged, earning a few snickers from the campers nearby.

 

Percy looked back up at her with narrowed eyes, and she just smirked, unsheathing her sword – yes, Clarisse carried a sword and had throwing knives hidden in her boots, despite favoring the spear – then backed up a few steps until they stood in appropriate sparring position.

 

Oh, that fukcer.

 

Percy cleared his throat and uncapped Riptide – what, as always, managed to pull some gasps of the newer campers – falling into stance as easily as breathing. He glanced at the crowd, making sure everyone was paying attention, before speaking.

 

“So, here's what you guys gotta do,” he said, clapping his hands together. “You're gonna approach each other, in stance, then follow a thrust-dodge-uppercut-parry sequence, just like this.” He slowly demonstrated each movement, a small smile finding its way to his face as excitement shone in the kids’ eyes. “And, for the love of gods, don't forget the footwork or you're not lasting a second in a real fight. One of you starts thrusting, the other dodging. Just follow along with me and Clarisse.” Percy shot Clarisse a thumbs up. She just rolled her eyes, but nodded all the same.

 

They approached each other – rather aggressively. “So, thru–” Percy moved to strike, only to be beaten by Clarisse with a thrust that definitely wasn’t practice-friendly, that cheater. “–dodge, uppercut…”

 

Percy responded with equal vigor, stomping his feet hard on the ground in a move that would've absolutely taken off any less experienced person’s arm, but eh. “...parry and thrust…”

 

They went through the sequence a few more times – just maybe using a tiny bit more force than was needed – but the campers seemed to follow along, so, in Percy's opinion? Totally win-win.

 

“Don't stop unless you wanna run laps!” Clarisse shouted as the duo split up, heading in opposite directions to check on the campers.

 

Percy scratched at his arm while (gently) kicking a camper's feet into the right position. His skin was itching – a lot, actually. Must've been from spending too much time with Clarisse.

 

He passed by the next few campers idly; a nudge here, fixing an atrocious grip there, tossing out some few words of encouragement… In general, he'd say they were doing fairly well, especially considering that some of them weren't even properly familiarized with their swords yet.

 

Between checking on Bernardo and Ana Clara – or, as Bernardo insists on calling her for some unknowable, possibly cursed reason, Clarildina – his gaze caught on a not-so-small crack on the ground. Just where Percy and Clarisse had been sparring not even ten minutes ago, too.

 

He hadn't even noticed it in the demo. Dam, Percy could've easily tripped if they'd been really fighting. Shame that Clarisse didn't.

 

Speaking of her…

 

Percy tilted his head up, searching the arena for the not exactly subtle form of his, um, fellow teaching peer, and found her only a few campers away. From the face she was doing, you'd say someone had offended her whole bloodline – but it was just a kid with the wrong feet in the front, really.

 

Percy moved on to the next camper, and, turns out, he had absolutely no ground to stand on judging Clarisse, because, by the gods, Erica's grip was straight-up sacrilegious.

 

“Oh gods, Erica your sword is going to commit suicide. Here, let me help you,” Percy said, sliding in next to her before the blade could actually leap from her hand.

 

He waved off her mumbled apology with a laugh. “Trust me, I've seen worse.” (Percy wasn't sure if he had, but the poor girl didn't need to know it).

 

“Okay, first – your hands are way too far apart, and you’re overextending your wrists Erica. Seriously, don’t do that unless you want your sword to fly off or your joints to quit on you. One hand always near the crossguard – heck, put it on the guard if that helps. And relax your grip, girl, would you? You’re holding it like it owes you money. You only need that kind of death grip when swinging. Otherwise, you’re just asking for cramps.”

 

Percy paused, eyeing her expression. Maybe he should just show her instead – judging by the look of pure despair on her face, the explanation wasn’t helping much.

 

He hovered his hand a few inches above her sword, silently asking for permission. She nodded – way too enthusiastically. “Please.”

 

Yep he was right.

 

“In the way you're holding, even the slightest push is enough to make the sword practically fly right out of your hand. See–” Percy said, grabbing the edge of the guard. And just like that, a light tug was enough to make the sword slip from her grip and clatter to the ground–

 

Wait.

 

The… the sword didn't clatter to the ground.

 

The sword didn't fall at all.

 

The blade was just… there. Fucking levitating.

 

Oh my gods.

 

Erica was staring wide-eyed at it, a hand cupping over her mouth. She looked at him, then at the sword again. Percy could see the moment the shock wore off – after all she was in a demigods camp, for fuck’s sake – and she opened her mouth to speak, a question on the seam of her lips.

 

Percy slapped the sword and, this time – thank the gods – it came clattering to the ground, the noise barely audible over the roar of static in his ears.

 

He looked at her. Erica looked back.

 

Percy tried to convey as much emotion as he could in his face while sweat began to tickle down his neck, praying to all the gods he knew that Erica would just brush it off. That she wouldn't ask.

 

For a second she looked like she might. Her mouth opened slightly, doubt flickering in her eyes – but then she closed it again.

 

They stared at each other, something unspoken passing through them. She was a cabin seven kid, right? They could just… feel this kind of stuff sometimes – the truth in what wasn't being said, the emotions underneath things. And Percy was pretty sure anyone standing close enough could hear how fast his heart was beating – let alone a child of Apollo.

 

Erica opened her mouth to speak.

 

“I… I think my grip’s so bad it made the sword fly,” she said, a (very fake) laugh trailing after the words.

 

Erica was officially his new favorite kid (actually, he was pretty sure she was only two years or so younger than him but… kid either way).

 

“Yeah, of course, totally. This was just an elaborate suicide plan from your sword – blades are weird, wouldn't put it past them. Don't think too hard about it. Camp food's been strange this week too, right? Just… yep. Collective hallucination. Let's fix this grip so it doesn't try anything again, yeah?” Percy replied, and, oh gods, he was horrible at this.

 

She nodded, relief softening her face. Percy let out an almost inaudible exhale, the tension bleeding out from his shoulders.

 

Shit. He had a life-threatening secret with a fourteen-years-old accomplice. That was his life now.

 

They locked eyes and nodded – a silent agreement to pretend nothing happened.

 

Percy moved in to fix her grip and posture like nothing was wrong, tossing out a few jokes as he explained the ‘whys’ of everything, just like he usually did.

 

He moved through the last few campers smoothly, doing an excellent job of pretending his hands weren't shaking and he didn't feel a little lightheaded.

 

Percy met up with Clarisse halfway down the line – who did an amazing show of huffing and rolling her eyes when she caught sight of him – just as one kid, who didn't even know the proper stance yet, somehow managed to nearly take off his partner's ear. Ah yes, kids. Sweet, innocent things.

 

They started walking side-to-side toward the front, and Clarisse's browns furrowed (more than her usual permanent frown) when she caught a good look at his face. “Fuck, did you see a ghost or somethin’, Jackson? You're whiter than bird's shit,” she said.

 

“Geez, thanks for the encouragement, La Rue,” Percy replied. Clarisse rolled her eyes. “For your information, I think this is just the normal body reaction to seeing twenty kids almost murder each other when you're supposed to be the responsible one for them.”

 

“Weakling,” she snorted, hastening her pace to walk ahead of him.

 

Oh, screw it. The one who was going to commit murder was him.

 

The itching from earlier intensified, stretching down all the way to his hands. Percy winced, scratching at his arms even more forcefully – but the feeling vanished before he could place it.

 

Percy was gearing up to run – there was no way he was letting Clarisse arrive first – only to stop short in his tracks and almost face plant on the ground when a camper to his right screamed. He whipped his head around, already half expecting an injury of some kind, only to regret it immediately.

 

No. No, no, no.

 

The fucking training dummy on the far right of the arena was on fire.

 

He was blaming Leo. That's it. He didn't care that Leo was currently on the other side of the camp. Fuck it.

 

“What the fuck, Jackson?!” Clarisse yelled from the several feet she'd gained ahead of him.

 

“Why the fuck should I know, La Rue?! One second I was running at you, the next there's a fucking dummy on fire!”

 

“It's on your side of the arena, asshole!”

 

“The fuck this had to do with anything?” Percy shouted back. “You're literally blaming the water dude in a camp that has Leo and the Stolls in it!”

 

He cursed, closed his eyes, and stretched his senses, searching for the nearest source of water with his powers.

 

The screaming around him wasn't helping at all – these kids really were in need of spending some time with Leo.

 

Percy scanned the grounds, and, shit, why was the arena so isolated? Actually, don't answer that. There is a whole handful of reasons for that (including the fire that may or may not be spreading right now).

 

The lake would have to make do. Percy would like to express his profound sorrow for any disturbances caused by the massive water bubble soaring across camp at dangerously high speeds – but, really? They should've been used to it at this point.

 

The bubble arrived with a whoosh, crashing down from the sky in a rather dramatic fashion and extinguishing the fire (which had reached a very concerning size) while drenching most of the people present in lake water.

 

He opened his eyes to a crowd of very wet, very frazzled and emotionally singed demigods – half of whom looked no more than a scream away from bolting straight back to their cabins. Percy was pretty sure at least a few of them were officially traumatized.

 

He locked eyes with Clarisse, who was holding two of the youngest campers under each arm, completely soaked from head to toe. Kids were still screaming and running around, even though the fire was long out.

 

They both nodded.

 

“Okay kiddos, thanks for coming! Due to some minor technical issues – as you can see – our class will unfortunately be cut short. But, hey, free period then, so yay! Go climb a tree, swim in the lake, attempt murder, I don't know, just… please get out of here before something else catches fire or someone loses a limb,” he called out, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the noise.

 

The kids didn't need to be told twice.

 

In less than one minute – a record, by the way – the arena was completely deserted. Only two people remained: a very faint Percy, and a perfectly fine Clarisse (except for the missing frown, which was somehow even more terrifying).

 

The pair shared a brief look.

 

Then, without a word, parted ways, each heading towards a different exit.

 

 

---

 

 

Annabeth found him sitting by the lake.

 

He’d been on the deck for a while now, pretty much since his free period before lunch had started. Being near the water always helped soothe his nerves, and considering today was shaping up to be one of the most stressful days he’d had in weeks, he hadn’t even hesitated.

 

The second Wilderness Survival ended – you’d think hijacking across the country at the ripe age of twelve and going on multiple world-ending quests would’ve prepared him for this kind of thing, but apparently not – he made a beeline for the lake.

 

Percy was lying on his stomach, absently twirling his fingers in the water as it rose and danced up and down his hand, when Annabeth plopped down beside him with a groan, resting her head on his back. He let out a soft oooff, and she just giggled at him.

 

“Why‘re you laughing at me? You don't get the right to be mean when you're using me as a pillow, Wise Girl,” Percy pouted at her.

 

She just giggled more, a sweet and radiant sound he knew Annabeth reserved just for him, and it was almost enough for him to forgive her. Almost.

 

“Because you're cute. And because I can. I know you don't have the heart to stop me, Seaweed Brain, and I'll use this fact to my full advantage. Forgot you're dating a daughter of Athena?” she replied, a teasing glint to her voice.

 

Percy wanted to be offended, really. But he also knew that what she said was completely true, so he settled for an annoyed huff instead.

 

“Ever the strategist, I see. Even when you're using your boyfriend as furniture,” he grumbled. Annabeth had the audacity to laugh even more, then shifted until she had nearly her entire upper half on top of him.

 

“Duh,” she said, scooting closer, so close that he could feel her breath brushing against the shell of his ear. “But there's no need to worry, Perce, you're my favorite piece of furniture ever. And by far the most handsome too.”

 

He could feel the smirk in her lips when she tipped her head down into his neck, pressing a kiss just above his pulse point and – okay, Percy forgives her.

 

“Ummm, good to know. I'm still scared you'll trade me for that ancient Greek-style bookshelf you found thrifting that day though.” He turned his head so it was mere inches apart from Annabeth's, trying his best to pretend his breath didn't hitch at the sight of her smile when she was currently using him as a pillow.

 

Annabeth pretended to think for a moment, scrunching her eyebrows together in a way she knows he loves. Then with a mournful expression, shook her head.

 

“Tsk, hard choice. Sorry, Seaweed Brain, but I think I'm getting that bookshelf.”

 

Percy made an affronted noise and started trashing around – just for show really, he didn't actually want Annabeth to get off, but still – “Get'off, you traitor, I'm revoking your pillow privileges. My girlfriend just ditched me for a bookshelf–”

 

“I'm kidding, I'm kidding! You're way too good of a pillow to pass,” Annabeth squealed from where she clung to his back for dear life. It didn't help her case in the slightest – quite the opposite – but the sound of her laughter was enough to make him almost melt into the ground (deck?) and below, so Percy gave an indignant huff, but settled either way.

 

Silence stretched between them after that, the warm, cozy one, only broken now and then by the occasional stream of conversation, a bit of bickering (that almost always ended in a kiss somehow), or the odd snort when one of them said something particularly dumb.

 

It was almost easy to forget… well, the whole day if he was being honest. He could focus just on the water twirling between his fingers and the feeling of Annabeth's fingers trailing on his back – she liked to draw when she was thinking, and apparently his back was the perfect canvas – instead of the whole mess that was his day.

 

He could ignore the itch in his skin, the soreness in his core that usually came when he used his powers too much – even when he hadn't used them nearly enough for this – the sense of foreboding pressing in his shoulders the whole day… Percy could do anything, as long as Annabeth was with him.

 

He was figuring out what shape to do with the water next (a hippocampus maybe?) while Annabeth drew what he was pretty sure was the Parthenon on his back when he shifted slightly, and frowned. Huh, he was cold.

 

Not freezing or anything – just colder than he should be. Especially for someone sunbathing by the lake with the midday sun blazing above and Annabeth draped over him basically like a personal heater. Maybe it was just the water doing its job cooling his skin, or the breeze picking up – or maybe he was just tired. Gods knew today had been… a day.

 

Still. The chill was lingering more than it should've. It was enough for him to blink a few times and stir a little, like the movement might shake it off.

 

Annabeth stopped her drawing above him, and dipped her head closer to him from where she was propped up on her elbows, her golden curls falling just into his line of sight.

 

“Everything okay down there, Perce?” she asked, silver eyes sparkling.

 

“Yeah, yeah of course. Just found out Zach has been cheating on Isy with Joseph since last month – things are getting wild on the lake, Wise Girl.” Actually, he'd gotten the latest tea yesterday, but he was due to tell her anyway, so now was as good a time as ever.

 

She snorted, but didn't say anything more, going back to her drawing instead. If Percy could guess, he'd say Annabeth was already adding shadow and contrast to it – though it was difficult to say when said drawing was essentially imaginary and being done on his back.

 

Percy was going to gladly brush it off – he would brush off literally anything at this point – when, obviously, something had to happen and ruin their moment. He didn’t even know why he still hoped for a cute, normal moment with his girlfriend.

 

He was peacefully shaping a water hippocampus in his palm when, out of thin air, the prickle in his skin surged back at full force – sharper, hotter than before, alive in a way that made his breath catch in his throat. It burned through him like fire, and with a startled hiss, Percy dropped the water, splashing it back into the lake and making Annabeth jolt upright.

 

But of fucking course it didn't end there. The Morai really decided to spill everything today, huh.

 

A sparkle – a literal sparkle, the one you see in magic movies – snapped into existence in his palm. And like this wasn't already enough, he could sense the way the water physically recoiled at the sight of it, almost disgustedly. Then, before Percy could do as much as blink, the lake surged up furiously, enveloping his hand as though to shield him – cold, and firm, in a way that felt like it was nearly scolding him – without him doing a thing. All this in less than five seconds.

 

No. Not the water too. Things were enough of a mess already. No.

 

Percy stood frozen – eyes wide, arm half-raised – watching an actual magic sparkle slowly dissolve into the layer of water wrapped around his hand. He barely registered that he'd startled enough to push Annabeth off his back until she lifted herself from the ground.

 

She turned to him, concern shining in her eyes and softening her features. Her brows furrowed as she caught sight of his hand, and he hurriedly shoved it under the water – stealth was never his forte, okay?

 

It didn’t seem to appease her in the slightest. If anything, it just made her eyebrows knit tighter – which was definitely not a good sign.

 

“Seaweed Brain… just, what happened?” she asked, sounding so genuinely worried that he almost broke down there and then.

 

“No-nothing, Wise Girl. It was just, uhh, a fish! Didn't understand the concept of personal space, honestly. Totally startled the shit out of me…” Percy trailed off at the extremely unimpressed eyebrow Annabeth lifted at him, and she just sighed.

 

“I see, Perce. Let me rephrase my question then,” Annabeth said, shifting so she was sitting just beside him. “I know that something's been bothering you since this morning – and no there's no ‘but’ here, Seaweed Brain, you're the worst liar I've ever seen,” she added when he opened his mouth, then closed it with an embarrassed smile.

 

“The thing is that I also know that you'll tell me when you're ready, Perce, so there's really no point in pressing you. Just know that I'm here for when you want to talk, okay?” Annabeth then gave him a peck on the cheek, so sweet and soft that Percy could've sworn he melted a little.

 

“I know, Annie. Thank you,” Percy said, trying to convey as much emotion as he could in his tone, because he knew there was absolutely no way of putting his feelings into words. Hell, Homēros could spend a thousand years writing about how much Percy loved Annabeth; and even then it wouldn't be nearly enough. Words simply couldn't express the love that blossomed in his chest every time he even thought about her, though, honestly? Percy preferred it this way.

 

Annabeth smiled at him, steely eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that was just so hers, so beautiful, so cute, so perfect that Percy couldn't take it anymore. In a swift movement, he rose from where he'd been lying on the deck, a hand finding its way to the nape of her neck, and Annabeth gave a startled gasp, but melted into his touch either way.

 

Her hands trailed up his back, coming to rest just above his shoulder blades. She pulled him closer, until their faces were merely a breath apart, then–

 

Then the conch horn blew so loud that it startled both of them enough to jump at least a foot in the air, and they broke off with a groan.

 

“Now this was just plain up evil,” Percy groaned. Annabeth snorted beside him, and – despite his five more minutes protests – pushed herself to her feet wearily, stretching her arms above her head until she heard a pop.

 

“C'mon, Seaweed Brain. I'm hungry,” Annabeth said, grabbing his hands and pulling him up. He let her with minimal grumbling, but since Percy was still very much bitter for the conch horn interrupting their moment, he used her momentary imbalance to yank her into a hug, grinning as she let out a surprised squeak.

 

“Revenge,” he muttered and Annabeth smacked at his arm with a laugh, though gave in to the hug all the same.

 

Just as they were about to pull apart, Percy felt Annabeth still. She lifted her head from his chest, a slight frown tugging at her brow. He made a vaguely confused noise, but Annabeth just shushed him, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead, her touch cool and gentle. Was she… checking his temperature?

 

“You're hot, Perce,” Annabeth muttered, lips pressing together.

 

Nope, nope. Absolutely not. He couldn't seriously be coming up with even more reasons for her to worry. Not now.

 

“Why, thank you, Wise Girl. I thought we had already decided I was the most handsome furniture out there, but I appreciate the– humph!”

 

Annabeth slapped her hand over his mouth before he could finish, frowning in pure disapproval.

 

“You know that's not what I meant, Seaweed Brain,” she said, gray eyes locked on his with a quiet intensity that he was definitely not equipped to handle right now.

 

Percy looked away, flashing a smile that fooled absolutely no one – least of all her – and she sighed.

 

“You know what, Perce? I'm still hungry. Let’s just go eat already – but don’t think for even a second that I’m not dragging you to the infirmary afterward,” she added with a glare when Percy relaxed slightly, and he mentally slapped himself.

 

Completely ignoring his dramatic noooooooo, Annabeth laced their fingers together and tugged him along until he finally gave in – grumbling like an old man the whole time – and the two of them walked hand by hand toward the dining-pavilion.

 

The couple split up with a kiss when they arrived – nothing that would make Chiron give them kitchen duty though – each one going to their respective tables. Annabeth drifted off to her siblings, beaming at them while Percy settled in the lovely, homely and completely lonely cabin three's table with a huff.

 

He filled his plate just enough to avoid Annabeth Side-Eye™, then moved to stand – only to stop short in his tracks when his vision blurred, barely avoiding tumbling down to the floor by gripping on the table.

 

Fuck, what he'd even done this time? His body was just quitting on him now, apparently.

 

Percy blinked a few times, and rubbed a hand down his face. Okay – maybe he was really due a visit to the infirmary, because he was pretty sure he wasn't getting dizzy from standing up yesterday.

 

(He ignored the whisper in his head saying he knew exactly where this came from).

 

When Percy finally regained his bearings enough, he – like any normal person would – casually stood up, pretending he didn't almost face plant mere seconds earlier, and went to the lunch traditions as he would any other day.

 

Percy was lucky Annabeth was too engrossed in a debate with Malcom to notice him, yes, but he'd like a standing ovation for his nonchalantly performance. He managed to walk straight all the way to the brazier, kneel, do his sacrifice and go back to his table without anyone even batting an eye. Applause, please.

 

Percy sat down with minimal fumbling, thanking the gods he'd tossed half of his meal in the fire. The demigod didn't think he'd be able to stomach much more than a few bites of his lamb skewer and some grapes.

 

He half-heartedly nibbled at the meat… and okay, Percy was definitely way too cold. But he was also sweating. And if this wasn't a tell-tale signal of fever, he was a son of Ares. Shit.

 

Still, Annabeth will already drag him to the infirmary when lunch is over anyway… Percy really wasn't in the mood of ruining even the moment she was supposed to spend laughing with her siblings. He could wait half an hour no problem, totally.

 

Percy went to lift his cup when he officially gave up on the lamb – blue cherry coke could lift even the lowest of the spirits, you see – and frowned when his hand met thin air.

 

Huh.

 

He could've sworn the cup was just there. Percy lifted his head, staring at the coke that was looking suspiciously innocent a few inches away from where he was sure he'd left it. Maybe his spatial perception was just this bad, it wouldn't surprise him.

 

He reached for the cup again, cautiously. But this time the coke didn't even tried to hide it – it just fucking moved away from his hand. Just like that.

 

Oh gods.

 

Percy blinked a few times. He reached for the cup, yet again. The cup practically jumped away from his hand – again. Percy buried his head in his arms with a groan.

 

This was fine. Totally fine. It's been happening the whole day already. It wasn't even new. If swords floating were a thing, his drink could jump away from him too. On their own. Obviously. He was in an ancient Greek demigod camp, for Poseidon's sake. Weird shit happens. That's it.

 

He peeked an eye open, half-expecting the goblet to have moved again, but it was just standing there. Perfectly still. Unbothered. And if cups could look smug, he'd bet all his money this one was.

 

Percy gave up on hydration.

 

He picked up a grape instead, if only to have something, anything, to distract him from the sweat prickling in the nape of his neck. The pounding on his heart. The way his leg was bouncing up and down under the table just way too fast. The fruit was cool under his shaking fingers – comforting, almost. Percy popped it into his mouth.

 

And the grape exploded.

 

Not popped. Exploded. Like it'd been charged with a string of static and it had simply detonated against his tongue. A tiny burst and a sting flared behind his teeth, making him flinch. His jaw tensed. Even the grapes? Seriously?

 

Percy sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, trying to calm the tremor in his hands. Twenty five minutes and he'd be out of here. Twenty five minutes. He could do this. Deep breaths. Or just breaths maybe. Everything was alright.

 

His fingers started to silently tap a rhythm on the table – too fast, too light to be casual, but Percy could barely feel them either way. The noises on the pavilion around him dimmed. Voices blurred together and laughter turned into static. The world narrowed. His breath caught.

 

He couldn't hear anything, yet there was a humming somewhere. Faint at first – so soft it almost felt imagined. But it grew louder, louder, and louder until Percy grabbed his head with a choked off cry, nearly ripping off his hair. He knew the noise wasn't coming from the outside. He could feel it.

 

Whatever was doing this noise was inside him.

 

There was something twisting beneath his skin – not in a painful way, only wrong. So foreign and so opposite from his nature, crashing against the ichor in his veins with a ferocity that left him gasping. That same spark from the dream, the arena, the lake, that too-sharp pressure building in his body. But now it was extending. Rising. Burning.

 

The itch from earlier wasn't just an itch anymore. It was fire, dragging itself from the dream into his reality, spreading through his body like the blaze from phlegethon, like the poison from Misery that still haunted his nightmares altogether. It was pushing, tearing, demanding space where there was none to give, somehow even worse than in the dream.

 

Percy gasped. The bench beneath him trembled. The wind was pounding against his back. The skewer was frizzling. He shuddered.

 

Just breathe.

 

Breathe.

 

Twenty three minutes.

 

His head was spinning so bad Percy wasn't sure if the silverware was actually shaking or if he was finally hallucinating. His whole body was burning from the inside. Percy gripped at the edge of the table. It was trembling just as bad as his hands.

 

Something silver curled at the edge of his vision and pupils blown wide with panic turned to it, sweat dripping down his forehead and onto the table. It curled towards him like smoke, twining itself in his arms, spreading up his limbs leisurely, and Percy had to bite back a scream.

 

The burning became unbearable, flaring up as a wildfire the more it expanded, almost excitedly. It was the dream all over again – but this time the smoke was in tune with the fire; one reaching out, the other pulling.

 

The smoke, the fire, the spark, the burning – Percy didn't even know anymore – coiled around his ribs like vines, digging into the space between bone and breath, and he could've sworn he felt something anchor. As if something had finally settled. The thing in his veins cheered.

 

Percy couldn't take it anymore. He choked on his breath, a hand desperately reaching out to stabilize himself against the table – only for the entire set of silverware to burst the second he touched it. Shards broke out in every direction and Percy staggered backwards with a shout, barely registering hitting the ground.

 

The wind started to howl above him, he heard a crack, and then there was screaming and someone was running towards him, but Percy didn't even notice it. He dug his nails into his arms, at his chest, trying to claw it away, rip it apart, anything to make it stop. It was in his whole body, claiming a place it didn't belong, spreading like a sickness. Percy couldn't breathe, his skin was too tight, his heartbeat was too loud, everything was just too much.

 

The last thing he saw was the blurry face of Annabeth coming just into his line of sight, and then Percy was out.

Notes:

yes, that cute summary was just to fool you guys. im not sorry.

i think you guys could notice it but I just love percy and clarrise so much. like they would trust each other with their life but they cant go more than five minutes together without trying to murder each other at least 3 times lmao. they're the definition of "murder you later, bestie!!" and it's just perfect.

erica just popped there, without my permission. she was supposed to be just a random mention and then suddenly percy had a life secret with her.

i said this in last chapter, and i repeat: annabeth and percy are my roman empire and ill die on this hill. i just cant. they are my babies. (annabeth love language is making imaginary drawings on ppl backs btw).

percy, our king of denial, strikes again. my boy will deny things until he physically cant and more lmao. he's just so done. too bad im not reehehehehe.

and for the uptade schedule, ill try my best to make it be like, a chapter every two weeks or smt like that? like there's a chapter one week, the other week no, and then there's a chapter again yay! i cant guarantee ill always manage to but ill try my best :)

 

i really hope from the depths of my heart that you guys enjoyed this chapter, and PLEASE let me know what u guys thought in the comments, or just scream in the void or smash your keyboard lmao comments feed my soul. i hope u guys have a good night, morning, afternoon, idk, and see u next chapter :D!!