DAISY || P. Jackson x Fem O/C

1.12 |𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝......

 ~⚡~{[CHAPTER TWELVE]}~⚡~

[The End......]

THEY WERE THE first heroes to return alive to Half-Blood Hill since Daisy and Luke, so of course everybody treated them as if they'd won some reality TV contest. According to camp tradition, they wore laurel wreaths to a big feast prepared in their honour, then led a procession down to the bonfire, where they got to burn the burial shrouds their cabins had made for them in their absence. Annabeth's shroud was so beautiful – grey silk with embroidered owls – Percy told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it. She punched him and told him to shut up.

Daisy's shroud was magical. Figuratively, Percy hoped. It was a pretty purple colour with embroidered wine glasses and grapevines.

Being the son of Poseidon, he didn't have any cabin mates, so the Ares cabin had volunteered to make his shroud. They'd taken an old bedsheet and painted smiley faces with X'ed-out eyes around the border, and the word LOSER painted really big in the middle. It was fun to burn. As Apollo's cabin led the sing-along and passed out toasted marshmallows, Percy was surrounded by his old Hermes cabinmates, Annabeth's friends from Athena, Pollux and Castor, and Grover's satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand new searcher's licence he'd received from the Council of Cloven Elders. The council had called Grover's performance on the quest 'Brave to the point of indigestion. Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past.'

They even saw Daisy waving brightly at them from her cabin window, where she had been confined to 'bed rest'. Except, she wasn't in bed, more like bouncing off the walls of her cabin, ready to escape it already.

The only ones not in a party mood were Clarisse and her cabinmates, whose poisonous looks told Percy they'd never forgive him for disgracing their dad. That was okay with him. Even Dionysus's welcome-home speech wasn't enough to dampen my spirits.

"Yes, yes, so the little brat didn't get himself killed and now he'll have an even bigger head. Well, huzzah for that. In other announcements, there will be no canoe races this Saturday..." Percy moved back into cabin three, but it didn't feel so lonely any more. He had his friends to train with during the day. At night, he lay awake and listened to the sea, knowing his father was out there. Maybe he wasn't quite sure about him yet, maybe he hadn't even wanted him born, but he was watching. And so far, he was proud of what Percy had done. As for his mother, she had a chance at a new life. Her letter arrived a week after he got back to camp.

She told him Gabe had left mysteriously – disappeared off the face of the planet, in fact. She'd reported him missing to the police, but she had a funny feeling they would never find him. On a completely unrelated subject, she'd sold her first lifesize concrete sculpture, entitled The Poker Player, to a collector, through an art gallery in Soho. She'd got so much money for it, she'd put a deposit down on a new apartment and made a payment on her first term's tuition at NYU. The Soho gallery was clamouring for more of her work, which they called 'a huge step forward in super-ugly neorealism'.

But don't worry, his mom wrote.

I'm done with sculpture. I've disposed of that box of tools you left me. It's time for me to turn to writing.

At the bottom, she wrote a P.S.: Percy, I've found a good private school here in the city. I've put a deposit down to hold you a spot, in case you want to enrol for seventh grade. You could live at home. But if you want to go yearround at Half-Blood Hill, I'll understand.