𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑, 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓, 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 --pjo

𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑, 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓, 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

"Have you no memories?"
I am made of memories.
"Then speak."
——— Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

Sophia had been plagued by the histories and battles she never lived; limbs angled unnaturally and bodies mangled together beyond recognition as corpses lay clustered together in heaps. Pools of blood and bones decorating the ground as weapons were scattered about. She wasn't sure who were the enemies, and who were allies. In the end they were all simply just people who had lost their lives, their names vanishing with the wind. She could taste the metallic taste of iron, as she gasped sharply, hand touching her abdomen, hearing the faint scream of someone calling for her as two names died upon her lips.

She met two young boys, who's fates were intertwined, but upon first glance, a third string of Fate binds them together. She guided them to the paths they were meant to take, regardless of the social norms that were apparent in Greece, she had made her stance eloquently. Sophia was an asset to the warriors——they had no choice but to bring her forth. She was the daughter of History, and it was her duty to witness it. It was something innate, she assumed. To witness things that she deemed would be helpful in the future should new battles arrive. To strategize and offer advice to lead to victory. With this, she could foresee it all. 

What she did not foresee was him donning their beloved soldier's armor, taking a burden that was never supposed to be his. The next moment had been a blur to her——seeing his cold body be brought in as the soldier stumbles in, cradling him as the soldier whispers his dead lover's name. Her mind blurred once again. The soldier was next——he was dead, and she screamed, clawing at her hair as her mind caved in. The image of Apollo guiding the arrow that was shot by Paris that hit the soldier's heel, and he had dropped dead. She screamed in the grief of the loss of her loved ones, whose strings of Fate were tied to hers. Apollo would suffer, she swore as she looked at their epitaphs. A young prince, her half-brother, would capture the Sun's gaze only to die. She foresaw that much. While she mourned for the death of a half-brother who was yet to be born, she would find pleasure in seeing this god fall to his knees as he mourned. The nightmares had returned that night——the same nightmare that plagued her since she was child and it almost ended the same as it always had; tasting the metallic taste of iron, gasping sharply, hand touching her abdomen, and hearing the faint scream of someone calling for her as two names died upon her lips.

Patroclus and Achilles.

ALTERNATIVELY . . .

a cursed demigod turned immortal daughter of the muse of history writes down events for the fates that occur in the mortal world that she had once belonged to, as she tries to recover from the deaths of two people that have been gone for centuries.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞
this was rotting away in my drafts for a while, and though i'm not quite confident about this, i think it has a solid plot? i was in a song of achilles/achilles come down mood and still currently devastated; this will follow through percy jackson and will probably only go to the fifth book. so, essentially, it's going to take current events in the pjo timeline while also talk about the cruel nature of gods? not quite sure. i'll also use tsoa since she's from ancient greece.

i also have accidentally mixed up the timeline of whether apollo and hyacinth's love story, which i later found out that it happened after, but i figured it out as to how I can make it work, and make it more angsty and adds to the beef the oc has with apollo.

also i'm going to be experimenting with my writing style with making sure it's as descriptive as possible while under the first person point of view while shifting to third person point of view when talking about the oc's past.

anyways, hope you guys enjoy this

— 𝐝𝐫𝐞