𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒! percy jackson

vi. Three Words

━━ chapter six
three words

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅。.。༅:*·ﾟﾟ·⭑

     PERCY had a policy. When things went downhill to shit in quests, always think of something positive. Always find something to joke about. Always keep his head and not fall into the depths of his fear and worry. But in Tartarus, it was hard. Almost impossible. Percy might've shaken the cold from that dreaded river, he still felt those voices taunt him━until he realised they were his own. And that didn't make them go away. 

     You'll never get out of here ...

     Life is pointless ...

     How do you think you'll even stop Gaea if you get out?

     You'll be dead before you even reach the doors.

     It was impossible. But he kept going. He made Nico di Angelo a promise, and he made Fiona a promise━and he made himself a promise. The promise of peace. Of finally having peace. 

     They followed the River Phlegethon, stumbling over glassy rock terrain, jumping crevices and hiding behind rock whenever the vampire girls slowed in front of them. It was hard to stay far enough back to not be spotted, but also close enough to keep an eye on Kelli and her monster comrades amongst the hazy, black and suffocating air. The heat from the river baked Percy's skin, but that wasn't the biggest of his worries. If the heat didn't kill him, the air he breathed certainly will. Each breath was like inhaling sulphur-scented fibreglass. Sharp and burning, cutting down his throat and clouding his lungs. When they needed a drink, the best they could was sip some refreshing liquid fire, which kept them going through the horrible climate without food or water for a while, but Percy didn't know how long for.

     At least Fiona's knee seemed to be healing. She was hardly limping at all. Her various cuts and scrapes had faded, and she had tied her dark hair off her face again with a strip of denim torn from her jeans. She was beaten up, tired, terrified, sooty and dressed like a homeless person━but gods did she still look great. Maybe it was because no matter how she looked━she could be ninety-years-old with swollen feet and wrinkles, but her bravery, her determination, her ability to take Percy on and win even with a possibly damaged knee for the rest of her life, she was Fiona, and that was enough.

      He hadn't found time to talk about it, or say it, but he had heard her. Falling into Tartarus, she had brought him flush to her chest and whimpered, I love you.

     Percy always thought that if they got it, it would be him to say it. And he wouldn't imagine it being in the worst, most dangerous and horrifying place in all of mythology and the world. He thought it would be once this is all over, things were settled, and he could just hold her and tell her that despite the little time they've known each other, they have been through so much that he knew━he was sure of it.

     But she had said it to him. Fiona, who was never sure of her relationships. Fiona, who was hesitant despite it all, stoic and serious, someone who was scared of being rejected and being wrong about friendships, relationships━anything really. And told him she loved him, and Percy knew she meant it. 

     Time here was impossible to judge. They trudged along, following the river as it cut through the harsh landscape. Fortunately the empousai weren't exactly speedy walkers. Having mismatched bronze and donkey legs already slowed the average blood-thirsty, psycopathic monster down, but when they were hissng and fighting each other and apparently in no hurry to reach the Doors of Death? It was like trying to drive through the heart of New York City any time of the day, or week. Impossible, loud, and seriously a mistake when you need to get somewhere.