✔ | [1] 𝒞𝒶𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒸 | ᴘᴇʀᴄʏ ᴊᴀᴄᴋꜱᴏɴ

𝓋𝒾𝒾𝒾. Paranoia sets in, all while rage boils...

❈ Helena needed food.

She didn't need food to eat. No. She needed food to burn.

She was overturning the wooden crates in the corner of the room she was in when one of the metal chains hanging from the ceiling smacked her against her head.

"Fucking, ow." She muttered, rubbing her head. "Come on, there isn't even mouldy food here? How the fuck does that make sense? Isn't this one of those old meat rooms?"

Food to burn so she could ask for guidance from her father. It didn't even have to be much. Her father would come to her even if she burnt a half-eaten bar of chocolate.

Ares, however, needed to know she needed help first, hence the need to burn food.

Unfortunately for Helena, she had given her food bag to Annabeth after she said she wanted to keep all their food supply together. Which, now thinking about it, wasn't very smart or wise.

Annabeth was the daughter of the Goddess of Wisdom. How could she be so unwise?

Wait, oh. Helena froze halfway into the room she was in.

Oh.

Have you figured it out yet, daughter of war? The voice echoed through the room. Do you see what was kept from you? What you have been too blind to see, to realise, to accept, until now?

She knew. She knew that Helena would be separated from them at some point or had planned it.

Helena's weakened mental state crumbled once again, betrayal flooding her system.

Annabeth knew. She had pulled Percy back from the doorway. Helena thought she was pulling him away from danger, away from the closing door, but no. She was pulling him away.

Away from her.

There was the time she made a theory about the workshop. Annabeth brushed it off. The time with the milkman. The fresco. Cabin 9. After she beat her during training. Annabeth brushed her off every time.

Memories started flashing through her mind like a cassette tape on rewind. Gods, how could she have been so blind?

Annabeth Chase didn't like her. Didn't bother to hide it. Didn't even give herself a chance to get to know Helena before she made up her mind about her. She didn't trust her.

Athena had never liked Ares, the voice said, giddy that it was finally getting to her. What makes you think her children are any different? Annabeth never liked those smarter than her, just like her mother. You, my dear trophy, are smarter than her. She is jealous of your brain, of your power. Of you. And what about the boy?

The boy. Percy. A thought ran through her mind. What Annabeth knew, Percy knew. Did Percy know?

Surely not.

Percy wasn't like that. He would tell her. For some reason, Helena doubted that. Deep down, she knew. Knew that Percy wouldn't tell her. At least not all of it. But she held hope that he would. Percy wasn't that cruel.

Isn't he? Would he? The male voice said. The seed he had planted had taken root, and now he needed to give it water to grow. He needed to get her to trust him. He hasn't told you anything. This you know well. It is a fact. It is not something I am twisting. The Jackson boy betrays you. Why do you continue to deny this child of war? Do you crave love to such a degree that you would allow yourself to be this blind? Your father didn't raise you to be this weak-hearted.