𝗩𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗔 ✶ 𝗽. 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀𝗼𝗻

𝐈𝐈. a laurel with thorns

002. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎──────🏆🗡️💋

❛ 𝒂 𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒍 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒔 ❜

"𝕲ods," Adira muttered, squinting down at the boy like he'd personally offended her with his existence. "I didn't know a person could drool this much." His head lolled to the side, a small puddle of drool soaking into the edge of the pillow.

The girl raised an eyebrow. "This is the guy?"

According to Chiron, he was. The kid who'd dragged a broken horn into camp and collapsed halfway across the boundary line. The same horn that now sat gleaming on the infirmary windowsill, dried blood still crusted along its edge.

Chiron had asked her and Annabeth to nurse him back to health, and, naturally, Annabeth had agreed without hesitation. Adira? Not so much. She wasn't a fan of babysitting anyone—especially not when she had far more interesting things to do.

"Hmm." Annabeth crouched beside the bed, brows furrowed in thought. "He doesn't look like much, does he?"

"No kidding," Adira replied with a chuckle, eyeing the boy's tangled jet-black hair that stuck up at odd angles like a storm had passed through his scalp.

"I'm just saying," she finally muttered, "if that's the hero who beat a Minotaur, we might all want to start writing our wills."

Annabeth gave her a look but didn't disagree.

With a sigh, Adira stood up and moved closer to the bed. She didn't want to be here, but she figured she might as well get it over with. As her fingers hovered near his mouth to wipe away the drool, his eyes suddenly snapped open.

Staring back at her were the prettiest sea-green color she has ever seen. They were the perfect blend of blue and green, like the depths of a tropical ocean, shimmering with hints of blue, almost as if they held secrets of the sea within them.

The boy made some noises, and Adira glanced at him, unimpressed.

"Doesn't sound very Minotaur-slaying to me."

Annabeth leaned in from the other side, visibly trying not to look impressed. "He's probably still delirious. Or concussed."

"Or both."

Adira stared at him another second. The kid was squinting now, eyes drifting closed again like the weight of the world was stapled to his lashes.

"Maybe he drowned the Minotaur in his drool," Adira offered, dry as sand.

Annabeth shot her a glare and smacked her shoulder. "I'm serious, Dira. He might be the one."

"If he is," Adira said coolly, "then I want nothing to do with him."

Annabeth's jaw tightened. "This could be my chance."

Adira brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I know."

She glanced at her best friend and saw the hope flickering there like a candle fighting the wind. "Just don't overthink this. Please?"

Annabeth's smile was faint but real. "We'll see."

․ ⁺ ⊹ ⁀₊➷ ⋄

𝕻ercy Jackson's day had been... pretty fucking weird.

There was really no getting around it. His brain felt like it had been through a spin cycle—shaken, rinsed, and dumped out to dry. He'd learned that gods were real. Not like symbolic or inspiring mythology real.Greek gods. Zeus, Poseidon, all of them. And monsters? Yeah. Those were real too. And apparently, they really hated him.