𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐚; percy jackson

𝟏𝟏 | the claim was made

"Dude, you can't be clumsier," Meara said, shaking her head as she pressed a hand to her forehead. She glanced at her knees, which were bruised from their tumble. "First, you trip in the fight, and now you make us fall from a whole hill."

Percy looked at her, his face tinged with embarrassment. "You saw that?" he asked sheepishly. Then, with a cheeky grin, he added, "Also, uh, now it isn't your only cut."

Meara shot back with a playful smile, "I hope you get crapped on by a pigeon."

"Come on now, that's just cruel," he chuckled lightly, a sound that made her notice the numerous scratches and bruises adorning his own skin. She couldn't deny that he had surprised her with how well he had fought; if he hadn't looked at her during the battle, he might have handled the two experienced opponents way better.

"I see them!" shouted one of the members of the red team.

"Okay, get it together, man," Meara said, nodding at Percy as she tightened her grip around her sword. She could feel the tension rising again.

"You can't keep running," Clarisse said, closing in on them like a cunning fox. She limped slightly, a testament to the cut Meara had inflicted earlier, though it was hardly noticeable.

"But Clarisse, we're right here," Meara replied, her smile brightening in defiance.

The frown on Clarisse's face deepened as she swung her sword at Meara, but the attack missed, the blade landing just above Meara's weapon. Seizing the moment, Meara thrust her sword toward Clarisse's stomach.

In the chaos, Meara took a moment to look around by elbowing Clarisse, only to witness her opponent shake as if she got struck by an electric shock.

Meara had seen this before. In the forest.

Clarisse's grip on her sword loosened, and it became entangled with Percy's shield, causing them all to stumble and crash into the sand. The weight of their bodies pressed against the ground, thanks to what Clarisse's spear fizzled.

For a moment, silence enveloped them as they all sat up, distancing themselves from one another as quickly as possible. Then Clarisse's scream shattered the quiet.

"NO!" she yelled, her voice filled with fury.

Meara and Percy exchanged glances, the gravity of their actions sinking in.

"Your clumsiness came in handy for once," Meara whispered, breathless.

"Thank you," Percy replied, a hint of sarcasm lacing his tone.

Clarisse shot them a venomous glare. "You broke my godly gift!" she accused, rising to her feet and advancing toward them.

"Yeah, and you stole mine a few days ago. At least I got mine back," Meara shrugged, keeping her tone light despite the tension.

Clarisse shook her head in disbelief and quickened her pace.

Then a sound cut through the air—a conch shell blown amidst cheers from the other campers. Someone had won.

Clarisse paused, clearly intrigued to know whether their struggle had been worth it. It hadn't.

Luke and a group of blue members sprinted along the beach, proudly holding the red flag aloft.

"Not bad," Meara heard a familiar voice whispering in her ear, the same one that had spoken to her during the fight.

"Not bad?" She turned to see Annabeth standing behind them, her Yankees cap perched on her head.

Percy's eyes widened. "Were you here the whole time?" he demanded.

Annabeth nodded, nonchalantly. "You didn't seem like you needed help," she shrugged.

"I got this cut because of you," Meara pointed at her cheek.

"Yeah, you would've killed them. I needed to warn you somehow," Annabeth replied, narrowing her eyebrows coldly.

"Name one person who'd miss them" Meara muttered under her breath.

Annabeth then turned her attention to Percy. "I'm sorry."

"What?" he managed before Annabeth pushed him into the lake. "What is wrong with you?" he yelled, spluttering in the cold water.

The commotion drew the attention of other campers.

Slowly, Percy's scratches began to heal, and he looked up in confusion as a massive trident appeared above him.

He was a son of Poseidon.

But then Annabeth looked at Meara. "What is—?" she started to ask, just as Meara felt herself rising off the ground.

No. She thought. This can't be happening.

Once her feet were about four inches above the sand, the scratch on her cheek began to heal, along with the bruises on her knees. She reached up to touch her face, astonished as every wound vanished.

Then, the worst part occurred, the moment she had both anticipated and dreaded since the onset of her healing—a huge thunderbolt crackled above her head.

She didn't want to be associated with a god like that. Not Zeus. She could feel her heart race. "I can't be his daughter." She whispered to herself.

"You've been claimed," Chiron's mighty voice boomed, cutting through the shocked gasps around them.

"Meara Adair, daughter of Zeus."

"Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon."

In an instant, all the campers knelt, including Annabeth and Ares's kids, some more willingly than others.

Why had her name been called out before Percy's? It was clear he had been claimed first.

Then it hit her.

Zeus had orchestrated this, claiming her to overshadow Poseidon.

For five long months, she had remained unclaimed. If Percy hadn't come to camp, Zeus wouldn't have acknowledged her at all. The realization stung; he didn't care about her one bit.

Just when she thought Percy and her were growing closer, fate had ripped them apart once again.

•

"I knew it! I did! We were fighting about whether it'd be Hades or Zeus," Grover babbled, a wide smile on his face.

"Wait, you guys knew?" Meara asked, shock flooding her voice.

"Hold on, not all of us; it was just—we didn't know for sure, okay?" he said, panic creeping in.

"This is by far the worst day of my life," Meara said, looking up at the sky, which she would never view the same way again.

"Maybe, but you know what? That means Thalia is your half-sister!" Grover tried to cheer her up.

"Grove, I've never even met her," Meara replied, shaking her head but managing a weak smile.

"I have an idea! We should go to her tree, and maybe I can tell you some stories about what she was like since I was her protector!" he suggested, enthusiasm sparkling in his eyes.

"Are you sure?" she asked, seeking reassurance.

With Grover, she often felt like a completely different person, and it was difficult to stay mad at him. She understood how much it hurt him whenever Thalia's name was mentioned, a constant reminder of the quest he had failed.

"Yeah! Come on," he urged, motioning for her to follow him toward Thalia's tree.

"Okay." Meara nodded, her spirits lifting.

Grover was willing to sacrifice his own feelings of guilt just to bring her a little comfort. She would do the same for him without hesitation.