A story where Percy Jackson couldn't help but fall in love with the girl he first hated, or a story where Amaya Beylin finds out there was a thin line between love and hate, and Percy and her crossed that line a long time ago. (I don't own Percy Jac...
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Amaya would have loved to die in a cool way maybe, fought a grizzly bear to death or blew up a school and died but nope she was about to get drown to death.
The only thought that was on her mind was how would her family react to her death, how would Hope react.
That and also the fact Percy was screaming his lungs as they fell. Amaya would've loved to say she had a straight face on while they fell but Amaya spouted so many curses you could hear it if you were 12 miles away.
As the river raced towards them, she squeezed Percy's hand tight, the wind blew her blonde colored braids flipping everywhere, he tightened his hold her as she buried her face in his chest bracing for impact.
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When they crashed, Percy saw a panicked Amaya and whiteout of bubbles. They sank through the murk, sure that they were about to end up embedded in a hundred feet of mud and lost forever.
But their impact with the water didn't hurt. He was falling slowly now, bubbles trickling up through his fingers as he held on to Amaya. He settled on the river bottom soundlessly. A catfish the size of his stepfather lurched away into the gloom. Clouds of silt and disgusting garbage—beer bottles, old shoes, plastic bags— swirled up all around them.
At that point, he had realized a few things: first, they had not been flattened into a pancake. He had not been barbecued. He couldn't even feel the Chimera poison boiling in his veins anymore. He was alive, which was good.
Second realization: He wasn't wet. He could feel the coolness of the water. He could see where the fire on his clothes had been quenched. But when he touched his own shirt, it felt perfectly dry. He could breathe underwater.
Third realization: Amaya couldn't swim.
Amaya ripped her hand out of Percy's and started flapping around, hitting Percy in face to land, but she couldn't figure out which way was up, down, left or right the more she flared around, the more she sank.
He hooked his arm around her waist to stop her from sinking but before he could swim to land, he heard a woman's voice: Percy, take the sword. Your father believes in you.
He knew the voice wasn't in his head. He wasn't imagining it, as soon as the voice spoke Amaya stopped flapping around and turned to see where the voice was coming from. Her words seemed to come from everywhere, rippling through the water like dolphin sonar.
"Where are you?" He called aloud. Then, through the gloom, he saw her—a woman the color of the water, a ghost in the current, floating just above the sword. She had long billowing hair, and her eyes, barely visible, were green like his.
A lump formed in his throat. he said, "Mom?"
No, child, only a messenger, though your mother's fate is not as hopeless as you believe. Go to the beach in Santa Monica.
