ACHILLES ( annabeth chase )

three | THEY HAVE REALLY WEIRD SHIRTS

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN pain for so long that you didn't even realise that it hurt and finally when you actually pay attention to where it hurts you're too exhausted to register anything?

Thats how Val felt.

Val cooperated with whatever she was told to do. The boy who was doctoring her — said his name was Will — seemed much too young to be a doctor. He must have only been eleven or twelve. But he seemed to know what he was doing. And Val was too tired to care. She hadn't slept properly for weeks. Here she was, sitting on a bed getting her wounds tended to. The temptation to lie down and sleep was almost overwhelming.

Will used a damp cloth to clean her many scratches. She winced slightly each time he put pressure on the deeper cuts. He then rubbed some strange smelling ointment into them, which stung so much Val forgot that she was tired for a few moments. The wince on her face was larger as the ointment stung her open wounds. Val inhaled sharply when Will treated a particularly large patch of blood on her upper right arm.

After what could've been seconds, minutes or ours, Will finally completed treating Valentine's cuts. For someone who couldn't have been more than twelve, Will seemed very experienced in what he was doing. He'd obviously been a doctor for at least a little while. He might've been better than a few of the healers at Camp Jupiter.

Finally, Will wrapped the largest wound — the cut on her upper right arm — in a white, cloth-like bandage. The contact on her damaged skin was like a boiling iron rod prodding her skin, but she didn't make any noise. Val hadn't said anything since she'd annoyed Annabeth. After all, Romans were taught to only speak when spoken to, and to never, ever show weakeness.

Valentine cursed herself for letting herself get into such a vulnerable position. She'd put off healing herself, waited without a second thought of what would happen when she finally got there. Now she was there. This place was real. And the first thing she'd done was land herself in the infirmary.

If this was going to work, it had to be executed carefully. Like a game of chess. Val was the strategic player. And, at the moment, Annabeth seemed to be in the position of the queen.

VALENTINE WASN'T EVEN REMOTELY SURPRISED when her dreams hit her like a truck without brakes.

The first act of the show called her dreams was a scene from somewhere Val didn't recognise. Not as if she could even see anything. All that was visible was the darkness shrouding her. She sensed she was in some sort of corridor.

The place gave her a sense of uneasiness. Normally, Val didn't have a problem with the dark or being underground. At least, she thought she was underground. Her mother was an underworld goddess, so she did have a little underground senses.

Suddenly, a blue glow engulfed the corridor and Val felt like she was blind for a few moments. Her vision cleared as the second act of her dreams began.

Now this was a place she recognised. This place had never intimidated her as much as the others. Val hadn't really been afraid of the person who'd inhabited it. The place she happened to be in was Reyna's office.

There sat Reyna herself, examining something shiny in her hands. It was her knife. Val knew that knife. She absentmindedly curled the fingers of her left hand, reminiscing the feel of the grip between her fingers.

Val knew Reyna couldn't see her. This was a dream vision. Valentine didn't know if this was the past, the present, or possibly the even future. But she was pretty sure that she knew what Reyna was doing.

Reyna held her knife in her hands, slowly twirling it over and over. It had obviously been washed since the last time Val had seen it. The last time Val had seen it, it had been stained a scarlet red. Reyna's dark eyes were sharp and calculating. It rather reminded Val of Annabeth. Her dream didn't show her anything else. Just about a minute of Reyna examining her knife. Until the door banged open.

Reyna jumped and dropped the knife. She whipped her head around to the door. Her defensive composure didn't break when she saw who it was.

Octavian held a freshly slaughtered pillow pet. A unicorn, by the looks of it. His knife he used for stabbing the bears was still in his hands. A triumphant expression was easily recognised upon his face.

"Octavian, please don't-" Reyna began forcefully, only to be cut off by the boy.

"She made it."

Reyna furrowed her eyebrows. "Who made what?" She demanded.

Octavian looked very pleased with himself. "The god have just informed me," he drawled. "That a certain Valentine Hernandez has made contact."

Reyna stared at him. "What do you mean?"

Octavia raised his eyebrows. He seemed to be satisfied with Reyna's reaction.

Valentine's dream faded into darkness as she awoke.

THAT DREAM, SHE THOUGHT, WAS strangely not chaotic. However, it had given Val a sense of unease. That dark corridor had meant something. And nothing good. Demigod dreams never meant anything good. Valentine sighed and sat up in the infirmary bed.

Her bandaged arm was stinging slightly but felt a lot better than it had the previous day. The bruises littered across her skin were throbbing gently. Most of her bare skin felt so dry she thought it might crack. Val's throat and lips were parched.

As if on queue, she spied something on her bedside table. A drink. An iced drink in a tall glass. Without thinking twice, Val grabbed the glass and sipped eagerly through the straw.

Immediately after putting the straw into her mouth, Val spit the liquid out, all over her bed, pillows and herself. She wrinkled her nose. The taste of the drink had been so unlike what she'd expected Val had to spit it out, repulsed at the flavour and temperature. She'd expected something cold. A tropically flavoured drink, or even just cold water. Not this.

The taste Val had gotten was a taste she hadn't had for a long, long time. It gave her the sensation of home, a place she could always go to when seeking solitude or safety or comfort. She didn't even know what flavour the drink was, but it had made Val strangely emotional. But she didn't get to be emotional for long. All she had time to do was think "Ugh feelings," when her thoughts were interrupted by the door opening.

"What happened to you?"

Will had walked in on Val, probably expecting her to be asleep. Val looked down at her odd attire. Her ragged clothes were practically torn to shreds and her appearance was not so flattering, but she suspected Will was referring to the spat-out liquid that was speckled all over her. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

"Uh-it, it...tasted weird." Was all she had to offer.

He rolled his eyes. "Maia!" He out of down the door. A girl with a dark tan and dark blonde hair stepped in. "Can you help her get changed?" Will asked.

The girl named Maia nodded as Will exited. It was Val's turn to raise her eyebrows.

Maia grinned. "Don't worry," she said. "I know you can get dressed yourself. Here," Maia chucked a suspiciously orange pile of clothes at Val.

"Thanks," Val replied carefully. Maia smiled and finger-gunned her, then turned on her heel and left the room, leaving Valentine alone with her thoughts and the clothes.

She held up the first item of clothing; plain denim shorts. Alright, she thought. Not too bad. Val placed them aside and held the next item; a very vibrant orange t-shirt, branded with a black Camp Half-Blood logo.

Val blinked at the almost blinding orange, recognising the shirt as the same design as the ones Percy and Annabeth were wearing. She was beginning to miss the purple of Camp Jupiter.

Next, she held up a simple leather necklace. Weird, she thought.

And finally, Maia had even gone to the trouble to scavenge some shoes for her. Val picked up a pair of simple black sneakers. Valentine sighed then began to change into her new clothes.

Within minutes, she stood up from the infirmary bed, feeling fresh and rested. Well, as fresh and rested as possible. She made sure to put her jacket on. She didn't care how annihilated it was. Val wasn't going to be taking any stupid chances.

And so the game of chess begins.

The Patroclus had arrived in Phthia.