𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀, percy jackson

03. fish boy is extremely impertinent

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜
chapter three : fish boy is extremely impertinent

[a/n]: enjoy!
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━━━ THE DOOR CREAKED AS THE four children stepped through the door. "You must be hungry," Medusa called out. "I left snacks on the table while I get something proper going."

Isabel approached a tiered pastry stand, its platters decked with colorful cupcakes and rainbow meringue. She almost brushed her hand against one; they admittedly looked delicious, and she was very hungry, but Annabeth grabbed her wrist before she could do anything. "Be careful," she warned her friend. "You best stay away from all this stuff."

Isabel and Annabeth walked to the other side of the table, where Grover and Percy were having a hushed conversation. "Thanks for coming," Percy said.

"This isn't the same for me as it is for you," Annabeth told them.

"Why?"

"You're concerned I would hold a grudge against you simply because you are a daughter of Athena?" Medusa asked, her voice high like tinkling bells. It was strange, and made Isabel's stomach tighten. "You shouldn't be. We're not our parents, after all. And you and I might have more in common than you think. Please, sit and eat."

Isabel sat down simply to be polite, but there was something wrong hanging in the air. She felt like Margot in that rickety old cabin, haunting whispers swirling around her head, ghostly and cold.

Annabeth remained standing.

"So, if you're not a monster, what are you, then?" Percy asked curiously.

"A survivor."

"You must be a little more than that," Percy said. "There's a Fury out there that seems terrified of you."

"Because she knows what I think of her. I don't like bullies. When one shows up on my doorstep, they end up spending a lot more time there than they planned for. The gift the gods gave me is that I cannot be bullied anymore."

"What my mother did to you wasn't a gift," Annabeth declared. "It was a curse."

"You are loyal to your mother," Medusa said simply.

"Yes."

"You stand by her?"

"Always."

"You love her?"

"Of course, I do."

"And so did I. So did I," Medusa said, melancholy notes in her voice, a sad symphony of what used to be. Isabel couldn't see her eyes (for obvious reasons), but she was certain there was a glassiness to them. "Do you know the story of how I came to be this way."

"I do," Grover piped up from the corner of his mouth, stuffed with food.

"Do you?"

"Do I?" Grover asked.

"Athena was everything to me," Medusa said, a smile curling her blood-painted lips. "I worshipped her, I prayed to her, I made offerings. She never answered. Not even an omen to suggest she appreciated my love. I wasn't like you, sweetheart. I was you." Medusa's smile disappeared. "I would have worshipped her that way for a lifetime in silence. But then one day, another god came, and he broke that silence. Your father. The Sea God told me that he loved me."

Love. They were all just drunken lies. Isabel felt a pang of sympathy for Medusa, a little understanding. She knew how hard it was to not fall for those lies, for how could they be anything but benevolent if they were so shiny and beautiful?