A Crown of Golden Leaves: A Percy Jackson Fanfiction

Caput LIII: Song for Someone

"I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything. 
Maybe we're from the same star." – Anonymous

Caput LIII: Song for Someone

THERE was something about Percy that Annabeth didn't recognize.

He had this magnetic pull that drew people to him, a light in his eyes that burned when he was convicted of something. It made him look like he was on fire, bright and burning and hot. But now the fire that burned in his eyes felt different—dangerous, as if it was moments away from leaping into a raging inferno that was ready to destroy everything in its path.

Including Percy himself.

It was like he was trying to pretend he was fine. And he might have fooled her, if she didn't know him as well as she did and if she wasn't nearly as observant. There was something different about the way he moved. All the fluid grace she associated with him, without realizing he possessed, was missing—sharp movements and harsh words. His eyes were distant, as if he was looking at something only he could see, but when they came back, they were hard.

Perhaps hatred is not love's opposite, but its dark shadow. she mused half-coherently, watching the way he slept through half-lidded eyes. All tensed up with frown lines between his eyebrows—on guard even in his sleep. Maybe he only reason why he's still alive and hasn't given up is because he hates Nyx so much he wants to spite her.

There were people who had managed to survive horrible, awful things through sheer spite. She had heard of them, the ones who were jailed and tortured and beaten and abused. The ones who had survived their rapists and became stronger for it.

There were also the people were became broken and bitter and jaded. The ones who never recovered from their experiences, and repeated the cycle over and over again. Because it was a cycle—violence begets violence. Fury and pain begets suffering and anguish. It was a negative cycle.

But she also knew of other people, who chose to live their lives as good and kind people, simply to spite their tormentors. And maybe Percy was that kind of person, the kind who wouldn't forgive his captors, but wouldn't let them destroy his spirit out of sheer spite.

She didn't know though. Wounds, especially mental wounds, were slow to heal and she didn't know how deep his ran.

All she knew was that she shouldn't doubt that there was a darkness within everyone, just like there was a light that couldn't always be seen, but couldn't go out.

_____________________________  

Honestly, Percy wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to feel at this point.

There was some kind of listlessness among them now. Annabeth stuck close to him, but she never made conversation and he didn't try to start it. Thalia seemed to be worried and yet, unmotivated to doing anything about it. Demetria was almost as withdrawn as Nico.

And he was angry. At what, he wasn't exactly sure. Definitely at his pater. But more than that, he felt ... he almost felt violated, which was irrational and ridiculous because, if anyone, it was his mater who had the right to feel violated. He was just a product of that. He was just – he didn't know what he was. Something twisted. Unnatural. He shouldn't have been born.

He tried not to think about it, but the more he tried not to think about it, the more he did. Going around and around in cycles until he felt physically ill. He felt terrible he was so distant from Annabeth when he knew she needed him, but he just ... he didn't know how to reach out to her when there was so much going on.