𝐂œ𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐬é𝐬 [Percy Jackson]

135

"Why do your pancakes taste so much better than mine?" Percy complained, reaching for Hadrian's stack of blue pancakes. Somehow, he'd roped Hadrian into the whole blue food thing

"They're magic plates, pretty boy, I'm sure the recipe's the same" Hadrian dodged Percy's fork, not letting him take even one bite, "But mine have a secret ingredient"

"What's that?"

"Looove" 

"I hate you" Percy scowled. 

"Percy, focus on your own pancakes" Annabeth chided, "And you're pouring too much syrup, you'll drown them"

"Hey, I'm a Poseidon kid," he said. "I can't drown. And neither can my pancakes."

To their left, Frank and Hazel used their cereal bowls to flatten out a map of Greece. They looked over it, their heads close together. Every once in a while Frank's hand would cover Hazel's, just sweet and natural like they were an old married couple, and Hazel didn't even look flustered, which was real progress for a girl from the 1940s. Until recently, if somebody said gosh darn, she would nearly faint.

At the head of the table, Jason sat uncomfortably with his T-shirt rolled up to his ribcage. Hadrian shoved a last few bites into his mouth to replenish his energy and walked over to Jason to change his bandages again.

"Please don't put your syrupy hands on me" Jason complained. 

"For the record, I eat my pancakes with ice cream and nutella"

"HAHA!" Percy exclaimed like he'd uncovered a secret. "So that's why they taste so good"

"You can literally see the toppings, Jackson" Hadrian rolled his eyes. In any case, he popped into the bathroom to wash his hands and came back. He had almost called Percy baby just now.

He pulled out the chair next to Jason and told him to lean back so he had better access. Hadrian tried not to stare and he was very well aware of everyone's eyes on him. So he only touched Jason when he absolutely had to. 

"Hold still," he said. "I know it hurts."

"It's just cold," he said.

That stupid Gladius blade had pierced him all the way through. Hadrian felt an arrow to the chest had been much too kind for Varus. The entrance wound on Jason's back was an ugly shade of purple and it steamed. Probably not a good sign.

Ambrosia, nectar, and mortal medicine could only help so much. A deep cut from Celestial bronze or Imperial gold could literally dissolve a demigod's essence from the inside out. Jason might get better. He claimed he felt better. But Hadrian wasn't so sure.

"What's up, guys?" Leo strolled into the mess hall. "Aw, yes to brownies!"

He grabbed the last one – from a special sea-salt recipe they'd picked up from Aphros the fish centaur at the bottom of the Atlantic.

The intercom crackled. 

After Coach Hedge left on his shadow-travel expedition, Leo had decided that his three-legged table could do just as good a job as their 'adult chaperone'. He had laminated Buford's tabletop with a magic scroll that projected a pint-sized holographic simulation of Coach Hedge. Mini-Hedge would stomp around on Buford's top, randomly saying things like 'CUT THAT OUT!' 'I'M GONNA KILL YOU!' and the ever-popular one he screamed now-

"PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!"

Everyone jumped. Hazel ended up five feet away from Frank. Percy spilled syrup in his orange juice. Jason awkwardly wriggled back into his T-shirt, Hadrian's hair turned bubble gum pink as he fell off his chair and Frank turned into a bulldog.

Hadrian glared at Leo as he got to his feet "I thought you were getting rid of that stupid hologram."

"Hey, Buford's just saying good morning. He loves his hologram! Besides, we all miss the coach. And Frank makes a cute bulldog."

Frank morphed back into a burly, grumpy Chinese Canadian dude. "Just sit down, Leo. We've got stuff to talk about."

Leo squeezed in between Jason and Hazel. 

"So..." Jason winced as he leaned forward. "We're going to stay airborne and drop anchor as close as we can to Olympia. It's further inland than I'd like– about five miles– but we don't have much choice. According to Juno, we have to find the goddess of victory and, um... subdue her."

Uncomfortable silence around the table.

With the new drapes covering the holographic walls, the mess hall was darker and gloomier than it should've been, but that couldn't be helped. Ever since the Kerkopes dwarf twins— Hadrian had laughed when Leo had narrated the story— had short-circuited the walls, the real-time video feed from Camp Half-Blood often fuzzed out, changing into playback of extreme dwarf close-ups— red whiskers, nostrils and bad dental work. It wasn't helpful when you were trying to eat or have a serious conversation about the fate of the world.

Percy sipped his syrup-flavored orange juice. He seemed to find it okay. "I'm cool with fighting the occasional goddess, but isn't Nike one of the good ones? I mean, personally, I like victory. I can't get enough of it."

Annabeth drummed her fingers on the table. "It does seem strange. I understand why Nike would be in Olympia— home of the Olympics and all that. The contestants sacrificed to her. Greeks and Romans worshipped her there for, like, twelve hundred years, right?"

"Almost to the end of the Roman Empire," Frank agreed. "Romans called her Victoria, but same difference. Everybody loved her. Who doesn't like to win? Not sure why we would have to subdue her."

Jason frowned. A wisp of steam curled from the wound under his shirt. "All I know... the ghoul Antinous said, Victory runs rampant in Olympia. Juno warned us that we could never heal the rift between the Greeks and Romans unless we defeated victory."

"How do we defeat victory?" Hazel wondered. "Sounds like one of those impossible riddles."

"Like making stones fly," Leo said, "or eating only one Fonzie."

He popped a handful of the Italian junk food into his mouth.

Hazel wrinkled her nose. "That stuff is going to kill you."

"You kidding? So many preservatives in these things, I'll live forever. But, hey, about this victory goddess being popular and great— Don't you guys remember what her kids are like at Camp Half-Blood?"

Hazel and Frank had never been to Camp Half-Blood, but the others nodded gravely.

"He's got a point," Percy said. "Those kids in Cabin Seventeen— they're super-competitive. When it comes to capture the flag, they're almost worse than the Ares kids. Uh, no offense, Frank."