★ 。＼｜／。★
𝗜𝗙 𝗜 𝗖𝗔𝗡'𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗥
𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖎𝖙𝖗𝖊 𝖖𝖚𝖆𝖙𝖗𝖊:
ONCE I WAS *EIGHT*
YEARS OLD
★ 。／｜＼。★
BELLE'S MUSCLES ACHED as her eyes fluttered open. The carpet underneath her stuck to her skin and bristled against her arms. She groaned, blinking to adjust to the light, as she sat up. Hey, she was alive, at least — she wasn't permanently stuck in glitter form, and Hebe had completely vanished. However, something felt . . . wrong. Belle's clothes were suddenly pooling around her, and when she looked down, her hands were smaller than she remembered them to be.
"Beauty," Percy breathed out from beside her.
She looked over, only for her eyes to widen. Percy's voice was higher, but his appearance had changed, too. He looked like a little kid, about eight, just like all those photographs Sally had shown her of him. And as Annabeth sat up too, Belle noticed Annabeth looked exactly like she did when she was eight from the pictures she had been shown.
"Oh Gods," Belle said.
Annabeth rubbed her head and stared at them before cursing, which sounded very strange from a third grader. "Hebe younged us."
"BLAAAAAHHHH!" Grover exclaimed, sitting up and rubbing his head. His horns were now just tiny stubs, his goatee was completely gone, and his hooves were so small that his fake feet and shoes had rolled away. "I don't feel so good." He picked a string of cheese from the pizza off of his face before moaning once he noticed his hooves. "Oh, no. I don't want to be a kid again!"
Human kid or goat kid . . . Belle assumed it was both. She had read that Satyrs matured half as fast as humans did.
"Maybe we'll change back if we leave the building?" Percy suggested.
Annabeth stood up shakily, looking doubtful. "Worth a try."
They left the karaoke spot and made their way back through the amusement center. When they passed the chicken coop, the animals looked at them with renewed interest, cocking their heads and clucking and flapping their wings. One of the chicks, which had pink fluff around its eyes and beak, followed their group along the fence while peeping.
"Wow, rude," Grover commented.
"What?" Percy asked.
"She's threatening to tear the flesh from our bones."
He looked at the chick nervously. "Okay, lil' killer. Calm down. We're leaving."
Grover suddenly rounded on Percy, lowered his head, and butted him in the chest so hard it pushed him backwards.
"Ow!" Percy complained. "Dude, why?"
"Sorry, sorry!" Grover stated, rubbing his horns. "I — I need to play. I'm practicing social dominance in the herd." He then butted Percy in the chest again.
"This is going to get old real quick."
"How about instead of just saying that, we try to get old real quick," Belle cut in. "Come on."
None of the other customers paid them any attention, probably because they were just three more children in the crowd. Belle tried to look for Sparky or any other employees, but she didn't see anyone. It was nearly impossible to keep her focus because of all the blinking lights and beeping sounds. All Demigods had ADHD to wire them for battle — Belle's had always been a bit more toned down than others, but it was still there. Over the years, she had learned to channel her focus and control it, yet now, all of that was thrown out the window.
She didn't want to be eight years old again. If that meant she had to relive all those years, especially the parts about the battles and her quests and Tartarus . . . she didn't know if she could survive that. She swallowed her panic and shook it off, trying to find the exit.
No one tried to stop them. They simply stepped back into the afternoon sunlight of Times Square . . . and they remained little kids. Percy grabbed Grover's arm to stop him from head-butting a Mickey Mouse street performer.
"So, what now?" Annabeth questioned, her voice tight. "We can't just . . . go home like this."
Belle knew things were really bad when Annabeth asked for advice. Most of the time, she was the one with the plan. Not to mention her home was a dorm room at SODNYC, and she couldn't exactly show up there nine years younger.
"It'll be okay," Percy reassured her.
Annabeth scowled at him. "You think so? Then you're a dummy!" She pressed her palms to her temples. "Sorry, Percy . . . I — I can't think straight. I think Hebe changed more than just how we look."
That was true. Belle hadn't felt so panicky in a while, and her thoughts were muddled with vocabulary she had used when she was eight.
"I'm not doing nine years over again," Percy insisted. "Let's go back in and find Hebe."
"And then what?" Grover urged. "She might turn us into babies!"
"Stop it!" Annabeth argued.
"No, you stop it. Meanie!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Okay," Belle stepped in between them, glancing at them both. "Let's just figure this out. But first, let's go back inside."
Belle — always the reasonable one, even at eight years old. She led them all back into Hebe Jeebies, which is exactly the place she didn't want to me. Almost immediately, they ran into Sparky, who looked a lot more cheerful now without her tickets.
"Hi, welcome to Hebe Jeebies!" Sparky greeted. "Do you know your way around?"
"We were just here," Percy told her. "Except older."
"That doesn't narrow it down . . ." She looked at them more carefully. "How much older? Fifty? Eighty?"
"Seriously?" Annabeth inquired.
"We asked you where Hebe was," Grover explained. "You pointed us to the karaoke bar?"
"Oh, right," Sparky continued. "You four. Okay, then, have a good time."
"Wait!" Grover protested. "We need to see Hebe again!"
Sparky raised her eyebrows. "What, you want to be even younger? When Hebe blesses you, you shouldn't get greedy. I'm sixty-five myself. It took me months of working here to get this young again!"
Yeah, okay. That made sense.
"We don't want to get any younger," Percy revealed. "We want Hebe to put us back the way we were."
Sparky scowled. "Hold on . . . are you lodging an age-based complaint?"
"Well, it's just . . . I think there's been a misunderstanding. We'd like—"
"You'd like to complain." Sparky then pulled a bullhorn off of her belt and turned to the entire arcade. "We have an age-based complaint!"
The crowd instantly erupted into cheers, hoots, and jeers. Many of them grinned at them in a malicious way, like they were expecting a good show.
"Um . . ." Percy began.
"Unleash the predators!" Sparky ordered. "Let the chase begin!"
Bells clanged, money changed hands, and a few customers speculated as to which of the four of them would fall first. The odds definitely weren't in their favor — but, honestly, were they ever? Belle anxiously scanned the room, but she didn't see anything.
"We just want to talk to Hebe!" Percy insisted.
Sparky pointed her megaphone in his face. "Maybe you will, if you survive the race. Have fun!"
She then lowered it off and strolled off casually. Somewhere in the depths of the arcade, somebody screamed. A chair went flying and a pinball machine toppled over. Annabeth drew her knife, which looked a lot bigger in her small hand.
Grover yelped in panic. "Here they come! I can smell them!"
"Smell what?" Percy asked. "I don't see—"
Belle elbowed him, her eyes wide. The chickens from the henhouse were completely rampaging through the arcade. Dozens of them swarmed over the games and knocked over furniture, ripping it up with their claws and beaks. Some flew over the customer's heads, ruining their hair. Others snapped food out of people's hands. The customers of Hebe Jeebies didn't seem to mind — they merely squealed in delight and ran from the chickens. All of the chickens headed straight towards Belle, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover, violence in their eyes.
Percy pulled out his pen, which concealed his sword, Riptide. "These chickens want trouble? I'll give them trouble."
Except when Percy uncapped his pen, it remained exactly that — a pen. No sword, no nothing.
"What the . . . why?" He then looked over at Belle. "Belle?"
Belle unclipped her sunflower keychain from her belt loops and flipped it. Usually, a sword would appear. A Three-foot-long Celestial Bronze sword with a green hilt with the word ηλιοτρόπιο engraved in gold, which means sunflower in Greek. However, Sunflower didn't appear when she flipped it at all.
She stared down at her keychain. "No sword, no plants . . . wow, I love my life."
"Maybe it doesn't work for kids," Grover voiced. "You're too young now."
"You mean our swords have a childproof cap?" Percy questioned incredulously.
"Hey, guys?" Annabeth interjected, sheathing her knife. "Argue later. Right now, I have a different plan: RUN!"
Being chased by killer chickens through an arcade wasn't exactly Belle's idea of a good time, yet here she was. The chickens were small, but they were fast, vicious, and really strong. They stormed across the arcade in a wave of feathers and claws, tearing up more furniture, scattering the customers, and making the Dance Dance Revolution scores go up. Their eyes stayed on the four of them the whole time, their beaks and talons gleaming like polished steel.
"Hurry!" Annabeth called back to Percy, who was falling behind them. "Over here!" She brought them over to the play structure with big plastic crawl tubes. "Guys, grab that table!"
She pointed to a high café table. Belle immediately understood why she wanted it, due to her experience of adventures together. Grover grabbed the top, and Percy and Belle grabbed the pedestal base. It was pretty heavy, but they managed to lug it over to the entrance of the play structure. Annabeth plunged into the tunnel first, then Belle, then Grover and Percy. The boys pulled the base of the table in behind them, and the circular tabletop was just big enough to block the entrance. About a moment later, the flock of chickens slammed into the play structure, making the plastic tubes shudder. The chickens screamed in outrage, but at least they were sfe for the moment.
"How long until they figure out there are other ways into the tube?" Percy inquired.
"Not long," Annabeth answered, her eyes blazing with intensity — she always lived for situations that she had to think her way out of an impossible predicament.
"Why chickens? Of all the animals . . ."
Belle slowly looked at him. "Oh, I'm so sorry that Hebe's sacred animal is a chicken and not a jaguar."
"It's because of Hebe's temples," Grover explained. "The priestesses always kept hens and chicks. Roosters were kept in Hercules' temple. The birds only got together on Hebe's holy day."
"Oh, right," Annabeth replied. "Hebe married Hercules when he became a God." She shuddered. "I almost feel sorry for her."
"Hold up," Percy said. "Grover, how do you know about the hen / rooster thing?"
"Daycare," he admitted miserably. "Hebe sponsors daycare centers for young Satyrs. We used to sing Happy the Holy Hen every morning."
"You're a member of the Council of Cloven Elders. Can't you ask the chickens to back off?"
"I can try." He bleated something, and the chickens slammed into the play structure with even more force. A steely beak even punctured the plastic between Percy's legs. "I guess that's a no."
"Hebe's holy day," Annabeth muttered. "Baby chicks . . ."
Belle nodded to her. "What are you thinking?"
"There were chicks in that coop . . ."
"So?" Percy shouted as another beak almost punctured into him.
"So we need to get back to the coop," Annabeth continued. "And grab a chick."
"Killer hens are chasing us, and you want to run to their coop and steal their babies?" Grover asked.
"Yes. And then run again." She raised her hand in defense. "Percy, Belle, I know you're going to say this is a terrible idea—"
"This is a terrible idea," Percy stated.
"—but you have to trust me. Let's go."
Annabeth crawled deeper into the play tube, and Belle followed her. It was a risky plan for sure, but right now, they didn't have anything. Besides, she trusted Annabeth wholeheartedly.
The tunnel angled upwards until they were just below the ceiling. Outside of the Plexiglas bubble window, belle could see most of the flock was still running around on the floor, squawking angrily. Some of the smarter birds flew up in the air and slammed into the play tube. Others ran along the top and pecked at the plastic. So far, they hadn't figured out how to get to them. They then stopped at a T.
"Grover, go left," Annabeth instructed. "Distract the flock while Percy, Belle, and I go right and make a break for the coop. We'll rendezvous back at the karaoke bar."
"Do I get to say this is a terrible idea, too?" Grover questioned.
"Just do your best. You're the fastest runner. You're also the only one who speaks Chicken."
"Technically Chicken isn't a distinct language, though many animal dialects sound just like Chicken . . ."
"Dude, just yell at them," Percy suggested. "Do you know any fowl insults?"
"This is a family amusement center!" Grover protested.
"Where they are trying to kill us for complaining."
"Good point. I will insult the chickens."
Grover shouldered past Percy and crawled down the left-hand tunnel.
"Let's go," Annabeth ordered.
And off they went down the right-hand tube. They slid down a bendy-straw chute right into a ball pit, which wasn't exactly great for making a quick escape. Fortunately, the chickens were distracted. At the opposite end f the play structure, Grover was insulting the chickens and bounding across the Skee-Ball machines, throwing the wooden balls behind him so the hens would trip and weave.
"SQUAWK!" Grover yelled. "CLUCK! CLUCK!"
That seemed to enrage the flock. Grover disappeared into the arcade, followed by most of the chickens.
"Keep up," Annabeth said, wading through the ball pit with her hands up above her head.
"I know you're not going to like it, but we can't hurt the hens," Belle told him, because she knew what Annabeth was going to do. "They're still Hebe's sacred animals."
Percy nodded. "That's my top priority. Not hurting the chickens."
"Please, just listen to me. None of Annabeth's plan will work if we make Hebe even angrier."
Annabeth got out of the ball pit first. Belle then climbed out, offering Percy a hand. He got out . . . not so gracefully, shaking plastic balls out of the cuffs his pants and scraping a cheeseburger off of the bottom of his shoe.
"Coop," Annabeth demanded.
They took off running. Sure enough, the chicks were still in the coop. They didn't look happy about missing out on the chase. When Sparky had let all of the other chickens out, she'd apparently trigged a control that rolled the chicken-wire fence down only halfway — low enough for the adult chickens to jump over, but too high for the baby chicks to.
Annabeth studied the chicks, which were running in circles, stomping in the straw, and clucking at them. The same chick with the pink fluff on her face seemed particularly angry, peeping at the top of her tiny lungs.
"Hope I can catch one," Annabeth mumbled. She then reached into the coop. "OWW!"
Lil' Killer had bitten and clamped ono her finger. Annabeth yanked her hand back, shaking the chick around, but Lil' Killer refused to let go.
"Remember not to hurt her," Percy voiced.
"Really helpful," Annabeth responded. Blood dripped down her finger, but she cupped her free hand around the check and held it against her chest. "Let's get to the karaoke bar."
"Is one chick enough?" Percy questioned.
Belle raised an eyebrow. "Why? You jealous?"
"She is kinda cute for a killer chicken."
From across the arcade sudden roar of customers cheering, chickens screeching, and Grover yelling incoming!
Belle, Annabeth, and Percy raced for the karaoke bar. Grover reached the lounge at the same time they did. He had feathers stuck in his fur, and the back of his shirt was shredded into bits.
Grover breathed heavily. "That was super fun."
"Get the doors!" Annabeth ordered.
Percy and Grover grabbed the big mahogany panels and started to slide them together. Why the karaoke bar had its own partition, Belle didn't know. Yet the two of them managed to just close the doors when the flock slammed against them. The hens squawked in outrage, and the mahogany panels shuddered and creaked.
"What now?" Grover inquired, looking young and terrified.
"Now comes the hard part," Annabeth announced.
"That was the easy part?" Percy asked.
Annabeth winced, yanking Lil' Killer off of her finger and setting her down on the floor. Lil' Killer ruffled her blood-speckled feathers, looking up at them with her black eyes before peeping in a smug sort of way. She then wandered off, pecking pizza crumps off of the carpet in content.
She wrapped a napkin around her bleeding finger. "This karaoke bar is Hebe's temple, right? Her inner sanctum?"
Percy nodded. "And?"
"On Hebe's holy days, petitioners used to come to her altar."
"That's right," Grover agreed. "They'd ask forgiveness, and Hebe would give them sanctuary."
"But this isn't her holy day, is it?" Percy questioned. "No way we could be that lucky."
"Probably not," Annabeth replied. "But we'll have to try."
The doors shuddered, bending inwards under the weight of the evil chickens. Belle glanced at them nervously. They couldn't waste any more time.
"Grover, barricade the doors as best as you can," Belle instructed. "Annabeth, try and help. Percy and I will look for the right song."
"Song?" Percy repeated. "You're not really talking about an Our Song duet?"
Belle sighed. "No, Perce. We need to find an apology song. We beg Hebe for forgiveness, and when she shows, we ask for sanctuary and a second chance."
"What if she refuses?"
Belle's eyes slid over to Lil' Killer. "Well, if that doesn't work, and Annabeth's Plan Chick doesn't work . . . then we're dead."
— [ ♡ ] —
now I can only imagine belle and percy singing our song
gifs by -wintxrwidow- !