𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 || HP X PJO (1)

𝙑𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙨

WAS THE MOON RED, or was it her blood?

Daphne couldn't tell. It felt like this punishment had no end. Her hands were stained with her own blood as Atropos laughed, holding her magical scissors in one hand and the other doing the job that she was supposed to do.

There was someone calling her name. Screaming was more like it. Theo— she tilted her head painfully to the side as her entire body burned, only to see the boy being held down by two of the fates, tears streaming down his cheeks as he watched her get her soul sucked away.

And it was all his fault.

He made a mistake, and Daphne was the one paying the price for it. It had only been a momentary decision, something he didn't even know was forbidden. He didn't know much about this other side of him, this world filled with angry and jealous gods.

He cried. He begged for them to do that to him instead. But the fates did not listen— they were as cruel as ancient mythology pictured them to be. Merciless, who enjoyed the misery of others. Deep down, they weren't that different from the furies.

Something sharp pierced through her body— it didn't feel like a knife but more like a magical weapon. Daphne, at this point, didn't have the strength to scream anymore. All she could do was hold her heart in her hands, watching the boy she had dragged into this world of demigods cry and fight against destiny.

He might have thought it was his fault. But, if Daphne had never followed Hecate's orders, none of them would've been there. Theo would have been back at his house, suffering under the abusive roof of the Carrows, and Daphne would already be dead.

Everything went still. Daphne couldn't feel her own weight. Everything was numb. Her nervous tissues seemed to have stopped functioning, for all the pain had ceased.

And then she was free.

Except, she was not.

Her freedom was short. Seconds as she felt like she had transcended, everything came crashing down back on her again. Frail, mortal. She was a bird whose wings had been cut.

The fates let go of Theo. He rushed to her side and kneeled next to her on the dirty ground. The blood had vanished with a touch of magic— a charm cast from his wand. A healing spell, maybe.

He cried more. She had no tears left in her eyes. He tenderly took her in his arms. She pressed her face against his shirt.

Although the fates made no sound behind them, it felt like they laughed mockingly at the duo. They had already doomed those two to a prophecy that haunted their sleeping in the shape of nightmares, and now, they had come to punish Daphne– and, therefore, Theo as well– again.

"It is done," Clotho announced. Her voice was grave and thick. They didn't look or sound like those three elderly ladies they had first seen so long ago.

"What have you done to her?" He whispered, holding her close. It was all his fault.

Atropos, Clotho, and Lachesis shared a look. Atropos opened her hand, revealing a small blooming flower with white petals decorated with little red spots of Daphne's blood. With a snap of her fingers, the flower was now carefully placed in Daphne's hand.

"Take care of it carefully," Atropos instructed. "That is your life force now. Your horcrux."

Daphne tried speaking, but only a low groan came out. Her entire body was on fire, skin prickling as it burned inside. Soulless.

She closed her eyes, and Theo held her tight, staring at the fates with rage dancing in his eyes. "Haven't you caused enough suffering for us?"

"Oh, young boy," Clotho began.

"You speak like that," Lachesis continued.

"Yet, you have no idea what your destiny holds." Atropos finished.

"This is just the beginning." They chorused. "If the flower dies, so does she."

Theo clenched his wand tightly. The fates snapped their fingers, leaving the children alone in the grounds of the underworld as Daphne held the small flower that now held the key to her life.

Finally, she regained her strength. And Daphne cried herself dry.

He knew what his destiny held, because Theseus Carrow would write his own destiny. Screw the fates. He was in charge of his future, not the moirai, not the gods, not the ministry, not his family.

Daphne, although she refused to admit it, was in charge of her own destiny, too. But it did not seem like it. Having her soul taken out of her body and placed entirely inside a flower wasn't in her goals for the future.

"I'm sorry," He murmured, gently shaking her in his arms. "I'm so sorry."

"Screw the fates, right?" She whispered. Her voice was still hoarse, but she kept trying her best to smile.

Theo smiled. "Screw them all."

As they sat there, with a fragile Daphne cradled in Theo's arms, he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "We won't let them control us, right? We– we can find a way around this."

Daphne clenched her stomach as she sat up straight, her knee above his leg and her breathing still hitched. "You know we can't." She whispered. "It's a punishment from the fates. I'll just live with this, I guess."

Theo winced. He felt his panic rising to the surface, but he kept himself together. Theo beated his embarrassment and grabbed her hand. "I'm so so sorry. I shouldn't have–"

"Hey, hey," Daphne cut him off. "If it weren't for you that night, I would've been dead right now. You saved me– who doomed me were the fates, not you."

Theo threw his arms around her again, engulfing Daphne in a tight embrace. "We will survive. No, no, we'll do more than survive, we'll live. We will make our own fucking destiny."

"Together?" She murmured with a smile.

"Together."

They locked their hands together as Daphne rested her head on his shoulder, looking at the flower in her lap.

Neither of them knew what the future held. But what they knew is that not even death could bring them down.