𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓪 - (𝓟.𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓸𝓷)

17.

vol ii
➵ chapter seventeen ➵

There are parties, and then there's the absurdity of Olympian parties, the resident musical entertainment for the evening—the Nine Muses.
Nectar and ambrosia overflow from golden fountains, and platters of mortal snack food crowd the banquet tables.

Dionysus walks arm in arm with a beautiful woman—his wife, Ariadne—with an irregular smile on his face. He stops before Helia, stating, "You did well, sun spawn," giving an agreeable nod, before strolling away and muttering, "Especially considering you had to deal with Peter Johnson for so long."

The young hero doesn't spend many moments alone; gods come over frequently to congratulate her, thankfully reducing themselves to human size so as not to trample partygoers under their feet.
Helia is even pulled unceremoniously onto the dance floor, passed around wistfully by minor deities.

Her aching feet are saved, and she's swept away by her grinning father.
Apollo stares down at her, taking in his daughter's appearance. He gently grabs the discoloured strand of hair and says, "My brave girl, holding the heavens aloft. You've exceeded all of my expectations."

Helia gently removes her father's hand. He pauses, struck by the intense hurt swirling within the depths of his little girl's irises.
He sighs sorrowfully. "My sister has informed the council of Atlas' remarks."

"All this time," Helia's voice cracks painfully, my mother, she—"
"Star. How desperately I wished to tell you. But I was bound—I am bound by the ancient laws... It was decided you were not to know."
"She wa—she was..."
"Half titan. Yes."
"But then," Helia pauses, her breathing becoming unsteady, "then what am I? an abomination that shouldn't exist?"

The sun god exhales, "You are an anomaly, a powerful one—a Kyrillos that the Fates have unfairly latched onto, decreeing a prophecy aeons before your birth."
Helia freezes, an electrifying jolt shooting through her body. "Aeons?" she chokes out.
"Yes. A destiny all parties involved have fruitlessly fought against."
"This prophecy..."
Apollo's eyes glaze over.
"Descendant of Aristos Achaion, child of the sun,
With blood of an elder and fate that cannot be outrun,
A double edged sword, they will have to decide,
Their choice, declaring the victorious side."

A sickening wave of terror transpires over Helia, with the remaining lines of the prophecy sending her mind entirely reeling.
She looks to her father, who reads her thoughts entirely.
"Even as the god of prophecy and foresight, I cannot decipher its true meaning—I cannot discern your fate, or what decision you will have to undertake."

"But I could be...dangerous." Helia utters in a suffocated whisper, "a security risk."
Hands are placed comfortingly on her shoulders, grounding her. "You are not seen that way, child. Your future is too ambiguous. There is no telling of the prophecy's effect, but it certainly doesn't allude to Olympus' downfall."

Helia finds it infinitely difficult to accept the consolation. Hesitantly, she asks, "And my...grandmother?"
Apollo huffs, "I am once again bound."
Anger builds swiftly, muscles stiffening. "Will I ever know?"
"Helia—"
The young girl throws her arms up, exasperated. "You've kept me in the dark for years. And you just expect me to accept this all? You won't even tell me my real lineage."

Filled with spite, Helia shakes off her father, stepping away from his outstretched arms.
"Star—"
"No." And she walks away.

Percy Jackson watches her impassioned stride from afar, noticing the sun gods defeated expression.
Apollo ambles over to the demi-god.
"She's furious with me."
"Can you blame her?"
"No. Of course not," Apollo hangs his head. "But I'm concerned. I fear that Kronos will use this time of emotional instability to try and get ahold of her, to manipulate her prophecy to his own means."