Fall (Percy Jackson x Reader)

twenty-eight

How can one ever understand the idea of betrayal?

The meaning, the motivation, the way it feels?

They can't.

At least, not until it happens to them. Not until their trust is wrenched away and shredded apart—until their walls of strength have been meticulously picked at so that with a single push, they all come crumbling down.

There's a pause.

And then everything hits like a tidal wave.

Water rushes over their body, drowning out the noise of the surrounding world; oxygen dissipates, the pressure of the deep pushing on their lungs and forcing suffocation; salt burns their eyes and washes into the new and carefully-crafted wounds, creating a pain so terrible and perfect because it was designed just for them.

And all the betrayer will do is smile at their work and revel in the pride of their accomplishment.

(Y/N)'s lips turn up with a cynical glee, her laugh resounding through the silent cave as she faces the demigods that so foolishly trusted her. They simply stare, shocked beyond belief.

Luke grins at the horrified teenagers, walking down the extended overhang of the cliff wall to stand beside (Y/N). His eyes darken at the beauty of his checkmate.

(Y/N)'s laugh tapers off, ending with an amused sigh as she looks down to the Golden Fleece in her arms. Ticking her tongue, she tilts her head at the group while opening her arms slightly. "Surprise."

Clarisse's heart pounds in her ears, her breaths becoming heavier and more weighted. Muscles beginning to tremble, her hands curling into fists, she glares at the girl with whom she believed to finally bury the hatchet—the girl who gave her the reassurance that their petty competition wasn't worth anything.

The liar who made her start to believe that she was enough, not just as a daughter of Ares, but as Clarisse La Rue.

Tyson's eye stings, his lower lip beginning to quiver as he clenches his jaw. His cheeks burn with humiliation, breaths shaky and air suddenly too thin to fill his lungs. She told him that he was good; she told him he wasn't a monster; she was the first person that seemed to truly accept him.

She acted like he was her friend.

He fights a sniffle as (Y/N) looks directly at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, please. Don't tell me you're gonna cry." She scoffs, rolling her eyes at his state. "Come on, Tyson. Did you really think I meant anything I said? That's pathetic."

Grover snaps his head up, eyes wide. He swallows thickly, taking a deep breath to calm himself before he places a hand on Tyson's bicep, the Cyclops looking down to his feet in shame. Grover shakes his head, blinking furiously and gritting his teeth, his muscles flexing on their own accord. When he looks back up at (Y/N), who already awaits his attention, the intensity of her gaze shocks him back into the past.

He was nine.

There had been a girl with twinkling (Y/E/C) eyes. The girl who looks at him right now, yet at the same time, a different one. She had bounded up to him with a smile, quite literally bouncing with excitement. She'd shaken his hand enthusiastically, introducing herself with the brightest smile he'd ever seen.

"It's your first day, right? I'm (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!" she says, and Grover gives her a nervous smile.

"Yeah, uh . . . yeah; I'm Grover Underwood."

(Y/N)'s smile grows wider, her arms swinging at her sides. "It's nice to meet you!"

"Thanks, um, you- you, too."