𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐚; percy jackson

𝟎𝟕 | as cold as an iceberg

After completing a series of exhausting activities—ranging from archery to nearly setting Camp Half-Blood ablaze—Percy found himself trailing behind Luke as they made their way to the sword practice arena. He couldn't help but feel disheartened. He hadn't excelled at anything so far, and the sword practice? It might be his last chance to prove himself.

When they arrived to the arena, Percy noticed a group of about twenty kids gathered in small clusters, whispering and stealing glances at him. He could sense the weight of their stares, though Luke paid no attention to them.

"Pick a sword," Luke nudged him, pointing to the rack of weapons nearby.

"I've got one," Percy replied, flashing a small, uncertain grin. Luke raised an eyebrow but didn't press further.

Once the camp was quiet, Luke addressed the group, his authoritative presence commanding attention. "Today's practice is special. You'll be fighting one-on-one, and you get to choose your partner."

The campers nodded in acknowledgment, their focus on Luke as he continued explaining the rules. Meanwhile, Percy couldn't help but scan the crowd, his eyes eventually landing on Meara as she entered the arena.

There was something magnetic about her presence, even if it unsettled him. Despite her being only twelve, the older campers seemed to tense up just from hearing her footsteps.

"Now that Meara's here," Luke said, continuing his instructions, "we'll get started with today's duels."

Percy watched as Meara took her place beside Luke, her expression unreadable.

She hadn't even acknowledged him, but he felt her presence looming large. It was as if, even without looking at him, she knew exactly where he was.

He couldn't understand why she unnerved him so much, and the sensation frustrated him.

As the fighters formed a square in the center of the arena, Luke asked who wanted to fight first. Three hands shot up immediately.

"Eli, you were first," Meara stated with a sharp, commanding tone. "Pick your opponent."

Eli's gaze locked onto a boy with an angry scowl, clearly someone he had a grudge against. "Him," Eli spat.

"Simon, step forward," Meara ordered. Percy marveled at how effortlessly the campers obeyed her, filling in the square around the two boys.

Meara then offered some strategic advice to both fighters, her voice cutting through the air with a calm intensity. She knew exactly how to handle each camper, and it grated on Percy.

As the first fight began, Percy found himself increasingly anxious.

These kids were good—really good. By the time two more duels had concluded, Percy's nerves were shot.

Each of the campers had something to offer, some skill or technique that made them stand out.

"Any other volunteers?" Meara asked, her voice slicing through the quiet.

Silence. No one seemed eager to step forward now, not among the remaining campers.

Luke turned to Percy. "Percy, want to give it a try?"

Percy's heart raced. He hadn't expected Luke to call him out in front of everyone, especially not in a way that seemed so genuine.

He wasn't sure he was ready, but if he backed out now, any chance of earning respect or "glory," as Luke had called it, would be gone.

Meara's gaze finally found him, her sharp eyes challenging him, without any sword needed. "What's it going to be?" she asked, her chin lifted slightly, daring him to make a decision.

For the first time, Percy held her gaze, feeling an inexplicable tension simmer between them.

There was something in her eyes, something almost electric, like a storm about to break. It made his blood run cold, and yet he couldn't look away.

She seemed different from before—colder, more calculated. Her earlier mocking behavior had disappeared, replaced by something darker, more intense.

"Yes," Percy said, trying to mask his hesitation with a hint of confidence. "Yes, I want to fight."

Meara's expression didn't shift. "Jackson, step forward," she said, her voice icy as she broke their eye contact and looked away, the dismissal igniting an unexpected spark of anger in him.

The way she brushed him off without a second thought infuriated him.

He didn't even know why he was so angry, but the emotions were roiling inside him, battling for dominance.

"Choose your opponent," Meara said, her tone devoid of any feeling.

His emotions in turmoil, her emotions completely hidden. Percy blurted out before he could think it through. "You."

The arena fell into a stunned silence. A few whispers broke out among the campers, but everyone's eyes were now on Meara and Percy. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it was clear he had just challenged the wrong person.

Meara slowly turned to face him again, her expression as cold and unreadable as ever. And in that moment, Percy realized just how much trouble he was in.

The tension in the arena crackled like electricity as Percy's challenge hung in the air. He could feel every pair of eyes boring into him, the whispers swelling into a cacophony of speculation. Meara's eyes burned with a fierce intensity that sent a chill down Percy's spine.

Percy swallowed hard, unwilling to show any sign of doubt. Deep down, he was acutely aware of how absurd this was. He was challenging someone whose reputation preceded her, someone who inspired fear among their peers.

Even if he thought that the girl was 'all talk no action' earlier, his mind was changed with her entrance into the arena.