Drowning in the Siren's Song

Chapter 17

Percy picked at his words, trading carefully. He knew he was on thin ice, but he couldn't afford one of the Olympians knowing that he was an anomality- neither Greek, nor Roman, or even worse- both. 

Even though he kept his lips tight regarding his singing prowess, he was honest about everything else. Instead of saying that he was a siren and could charm anything, he simply told them that he enjoyed singing and it gained the dryads interest, therefore leading to their blessing when they realized that he was being mistreated at home. He didn't divulge much in the topic since he was sure that she could read between the lines. Even remembering him was torturous for him. 

As for Pan's blessing, he didn't hold anything back, telling them how the nature's blessing in turn attracted his attention and how he somehow gave him his blessing and disappeared soon after. 

He spun and wove his tale, surprising himself by how efficiently he lied. Maybe it was related to his siren abilities; the power was to charm and manipulate, but he never thought it would affect his words without even singing. But in retrospect, he never really lied. He simply withheld some information. 

The goddess must've agreed since she didn't get angry or incinerated him on the spot. He'd heard that gods could sense when one lied. He felt guilty, but he put his personal feelings before his respect towards her. He was selfish but not ashamed to admit it. 

He could also feel her slightly unravel in front of him. Even the hunter's lieutenant was not as stiff, and she had even put down her knife. Some real progress was happening here!

"So you were abused by your stepfather." Plain and deadpan, her words were laid out in front of him, sharp as knives digging in his skin.

It was like the non-existent process he'd thought he'd formed went crumbling down.  Back to square one...or maybe back to minus 1. He thought that Artemis would understand why he'd left home to live in the forest and turn to dryads, but maybe all the gods were just too indifferent. 

It disappointed him to point where it hurt, adding on to the pain the question she'd asked. Oak had spoken so greatly about her. The protector of children, the one who saved young girls from fates worse than death, the goddess who singlehanded made the world give women the respect they deserved. The only god to face misogyny and act on it. 

He wondered whether it matter who the receipt of the abuse was. Would it have been different if he were a girl?

There was no point in wandering into such depressing thoughts. And it wasn't his place to criticize a goddess anyways. He hung his head lower, afraid to see what her face would show him and moreover, afraid of what his face might show to her. 

"Yes, My Lady." He said, trying his best to sound detached. If he was going to respond, might as well act like it didn't bother him. All he saw was the brown of the soil as silence followed. In the back of his mind, he could feel the waves of reassurances and warmth Keria was sending him. He borrowed her strength, using it keep himself composed.

"And your mother?" He flinched, her words slicing through him more painfully than the claws of a poisonous beast. Her voice didn't change, remaining the same dignified, uninterested manner. It was as if she was asking about lunch. 

He forced himself to answer. Nothing good would happen if he refused such a direct order. "She has passed on. I left home soon after to avoid a similar fate." On the outside, his voice was devoid of emotion yet he was nothing but a storm inside. 

Anger, Hatred, Sorrow, Guilt all swirled inside him. He felt his powers slipping, threatening to cut loose. He tried to suppress it, but it was as if he was pouring water into a bottomless pit. He just couldn't. And if he could, why would he?

The forest tuned in with him, responding to his unspoken plea. The winds became agitated and the waters were rising. He could feel the nature spirits relinquish their power and bodies for him to use and for the first time, he felt the true supremacy of the wild. And he was ready for it.

A hurricane formed around him, distancing himself from Artemis and Zoe back. His eyes were glazed over and contrary to the swirling winds around him, his hair blew as if a gentle breeze was caressing him. Tremors were going through the earth while the trees were agitated. 

And just when the world around him was about break, Artemis spoke, her voice somehow carried over the chaos surrounding him.

"I see. You've had a lonely life" Her voice was unusually quiet, just enough for his heightened senses to pick up even in the swirling wind. Her words were nothing special, nor was her tone one of sympathy, and yet nothing had every sounded sweeter. 

He froze in place, jerking his head up to look at her directly in the eyes. He didn't care if it was disrespectful, he was beyond those worries. Her eyes were clear and honest. There was no pity, no sympathy, but she understood. She understood how hard it had been. 

"Yes." He sobbed, breaking in a different way than imagined. He was overwhelmed, too much to think, too much to control whatever was happening inside him. 

He cried. In the ugly way where he wheezed and sniffled, unable to stop or breathe. His head hurt, his heart throbbed. He felt as if he was being squeezed dry, taking out every ounce of water in him. 

He didn't even know why he was crying. Was it because Artemis showed him sympathy? No. 
He was crying because he had been alone. So very alone all these years, suffering silently, suppressing the trauma which clawed at him from insides, tearing everything apart piece by piece. 

He had been forced to relive his fears, meeting huge men resembling Gabe and trying to act like it didn't bother him. He'd been forced to recount his whole past, remembering his mother and her death, the garden and the happiness and sorrow he'd left there. He was reminded why he was alone and that it was the only way he would survive.

It was as if the dam holding his pain broke, making waves and waves flood his whole being, drenching him again and again. He was drowning. 

He hated it, he hated every second of it, and yet as he stopped crying, his chest finally felt like it could breathe. And with the sudden relief came a world which spun, dizzying and disorienting. 

The last thing he saw was a pair of eyes like the moon and a soft hand covering his eyes. And his world went black.