Chaos Rising |BOOK 2| Harry Potter x PJO |Alexandra Marine|

BONUS: THE DAY SHE WENT TO HER HOUSE

"Welcome to London," the air hostess said. "Have a good time."

"Thanks," I replied as I exited the aircraft.

I walked through the baggage counter without any in hand. My backpack was alone enough. As I exited Heathrow, I called up a taxi and settled in. "Grimmauld Place, Islington, please."

I don't know why I did that.

I think I was just nostalgic for the days before I met Luke. And even though nostalgia meant going back to the days when I went through sever mental torture, it was better than facing the fact that my fiancé was now Kronos- the Crooked One.

As we passed through several lanes and streets, my mind wandered through the good old days. The taxi ride would at least be an hour long, I realized. I remembered having a pillow fight with Cecilia- that old cow... I wondered what she was doing that moment. Probably at some college, taunting some poor freshman.

I sighed, closing my eyes.

***

"What if I'm the monster," I muttered to myself. "What if I'm in the wrong?"

I looked at my hands. They were rough and tired from all the days in the Trojan War. "What if I'm the problem? What if I've been far too kind to our foes and just a monster to us all?"

I took a shaky breath. "Is this where my path leads?" I asked. "Towards the death of my crew? Does a Cyclops know guilt when he kills? Will he spare me my life just because I let him live?"

I walked outside the Captain's cabin. The ship's mast had torn away because of the raging storm. Scylla's attack on us had almost halved my men. And yet still they were here, tying up the mast and sewing it up, climbing poles and charting routes towards home. Towards Ithaca.

"When a witch turns up and makes men into pigs, is she going insane?" I muttered to myself, gripping the wooden railing and looking down at the men working tirelessly. "Or did she just grow colder and learn from her lesson? Does she do it to save others the pain?"

I dropped to my knees. I looked into the cabin, the door of which was wide open. Right from the entrance, I could see her. Her hair was tied into a bun with red lace, her Greek chiton flowing behind her. She walked to me, and kneeled before me. Penelope. I could hear her saying it, "Come home soon. I await you."

"When a god comes down and makes our fleet drown," I asked her, tears flowing from my eyes, "is he scared of killing us all? Or is he keeping a check on humans, making sure we'll never anger him again?"

Penelope put a hand to my cheek. It was almost like heaven. Her hands were soft unlike mine, her gaze loving and confident, unlike mine. She was everything I wasn't.

"Does a soldier use a wooden horse," she said, "to kill the Trojans because he is vile? Or is he trying to throw away the guilt and is he trying to save more lives?"

I sniffled. I took her hand in mine. "Make the wise choice, my love," she said. I gripped her arm more firmly as her form began to turn to dust.

"If I became the monster," I said, "and threw all the guilt away, would that make us stronger?!"

"Would it?" a voice echoed in my head.

"Would it make sure my foes never came?" I asked. "Am I only making more by not throwing the guilt away?"

I stood up. "If I became the monster to everyone but us, is there just a tiny chance that we might reach home?"

"Is there?" the voice asked.