little bird - Percy Jackson

chapter three

There was one time a couple years prior when Travis and Connor Stoll had smuggled one of those old portable DVD players into Camp, the ones that looked like miniature laptops and would heat up so fast they nearly burnt your skin. Wren Kelley had never seen one in her life, but under the assurance that if Mr. D found out that the group had it then the brothers would take the blame, she'd grabbed Annabeth and the group of four set up a small movie night.

The Chronicles of Narnia was a world so foreign yet so familiar to the demigods, and Wren savored every second of the film. Of course, when the group was busted and put on clean up duty in the training arenas for a week, the girl was pissed.

It was at least fun while it lasted.

Now, walking through the split Roman legion with Jason and Annabeth at her sides, Wren felt like Aslan on the walk to his sacrifice.

Entire families had gathered in the forum, a lineage of demigods that Wren had never even considered. Where she came from, you were lucky if you made it to eighteen. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the near-sixteen-year-old still was willing to put her drachmas down on that fact that her life expectancy was severely limited.

She caught sight of Tyson and Mrs. O'Leary along the edge of the end of the crowd, the cyclops donning a large SPQR banner as a toga, successfully earning a small amused snort from the girl. Fucking Tyson.

Whether it was because of her laugh or because of the other girls nerves, Wren couldn't be sure, but Annabeth's grasp on her hand tightened so exponentially hard that the Kelley girl winced and shot her friend a 'what the fuck?' look that went undetected. Or Annabeth had just ignored it - Wren couldn't say she would be surprised.

Wren could admit to being the slightest bit relieved at the sight of the cyclops and hellhound, relieved that the Roman ranks hadn't slaughtered them like the monsters they technically were - relieved they recognized them as a search party for Percy. Slightly relieved that it most likely meant Percy Jackson was alive and well - vehemently annoyed and sincerely dreading spending the foreseeable future cramped in the cabins of the Argo II with him.

While the Romans had forced a semi-circle in front of the group, the crowd parted as a girl sauntered through, donning a purple came that replicated the one Jason wore exactly.

Reyna.

Jason had described her to a tee - pitch black hair, equally as dark eyes, a stoic expression carved into her face. She was undoubtedly gorgeous, but it wasn't her looks that gained her the attention, it was her aura, her expression. Strong. Determined. Annoyed. Deadly. Everything about her screamed 'obviously I'm in charge'.

Even if Jason hadn't given the members of the Argo II a Camp Jupiter 101 rundown, it wouldn't have been hard to recognize the girl. Her armor was decorated in medals, and the surrounding demigods were looking between her and the group as if they were awaiting orders.

She studied the group with expressionless eyes, through her lips quirked into the smallest of scowls when her gaze fell to Piper and Jason's interlocked hands. Wren had popped her hand up in an awkward greeting when Reyna's eyes met her own, and she swore the Roman girls eyebrows almost cocked upwards with amusement.

Annabeth quickly smacked the girls hand down.

Wren was about to whack the girl in return when it seemed they both noticed the same thing. Dark messy hair, that obnoxious troublemaker grin, tanned and tall.

Percy-fucking-Jackson.

"Jason Grace, my former colleague... I welcome you home." Reyna nodded her head at the boy and lightly gestured towards the rest of the group, "And these, your friends-"