Fall (Percy Jackson x Reader)

seventeen

"I've had a grand idea!"

(Y/N) rolls her eyes at Mr. D.'s words, muttering a bitter, "Probably an alcohol-induced one, too."

Percy holds back a snort of laughter at her annoyance, leaning his head against hers as it rests on his shoulder. Campers go quiet, listening to Dionysus as he addresses them.

"Unless Thalia's tree can be cured," he starts, raising his voice slightly to be heard, "and the protective barrier around our camp restored, then every demigod, centaur, satyr, and nymph will be killed within days... if not sooner."

A worried silence passes over the audience, and (Y/N) grits her teeth in frustration. If he made another drunken mistake— while very much sober— like the one from a few nights ago, everyone in camp would already have met that fate.

Percy unwillingly tenses up, and (Y/N) notices this, ignoring her own annoyance in the hopes of comforting him. She gently squeezes his hand, rubbing circles on the back of his palm with her thumb like he was doing just moments before Mr. D. began spouting off.

Somewhat more relaxed now, Percy squeezes back with gratitude. He lifts his head off of hers when Tyson leans closer to him, evidently having noticed his shift in mood.

"Hey," Tyson whispers, concerned. "You okay?"

Percy opens his mouth to respond, but words fail to come; he instead clenches his jaw, giving his half-brother a pitiful shrug.

Tyson, trying his best to comfort him, nods reassuringly. "Don't worry. Camp will be okay." A pause passes before he adds on with a smile, "You gotta have faith, right?"

Percy smiles at him quickly (and slightly uncomfortably) in thanks before his attention is drawn back to the speaker in front of the crowd of demigods.

"But fortunately, I have considered the matter," Dionysus announces.

(Y/N) lifts her head with intrigue. That sounded like a complete lie to her.

Mr. D.? Caring?

Thinking?

'Oh, please.' She has to refrain from scoffing aloud.

"And after great study, I have determined that the only thing that has the power to save Thalia's tree, and therefore our home—"

Annabeth leans forward, resting her hands on her knees as she and Grover both furrow their eyebrows.

"—is the Golden Fleece of myth."

The god snaps his fingers, pointing to a banner as a demigod pulls on a string to unfurl it. The Fleece is depicted, accentuated very fittingly with gold, and campers (with the exceptions of (Y/N) and Annabeth) turn their heads to look.

"What?" Annabeth hisses, frustrated that Dionysus took the credit for her own hard work. (Y/N), however, snaps her head to her best friend with wide eyes.

"You do know," she starts, lowly, and this prompts Annabeth to face her, "that when I told you about that resource site and asked you not to choose something that could put us all in danger—"

Annabeth smiles sheepishly during (Y/N)'s emphatic pause.

"—I did not, by any means, try to exclude one of our best friends in that consideration!"

Annabeth opens her mouth to defend herself when Dionysus speaks up again, drawing the attention of all once more. "Whose touch..." his arm is still extended, and he discreetly opens his slightly folded hand to read the words scrawled on his palm.