A story where Percy Jackson couldn't help but fall in love with the girl he first hated, or a story where Amaya Beylin finds out there was a thin line between love and hate, and Percy and her crossed that line a long time ago. (I don't own Percy Jac...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Mythologically speaking, if there's anything Percy hated worse than trios of old ladies, it's bulls. Last summer he and Amaya fought the Minotaur on top of Half-Blood Hill. This time what he saw up there was even worse: two bulls. And not just regular bulls-bronze ones the size of elephants. And even that wasn't bad enough. Naturally they had to breathe fire, too.
As soon as they exited the taxi, the Gray Sisters peeled out, heading back to New York, where life was safer. They didn't even wait for their extra three-drachma payment. They just left the group on the side of the road, Annabeth with nothing but her backpack and knife, Tyson and Percy still in their burned-up tie-dyed gym clothes.
The only 'lucky' ones were Amaya and Hope, Amaya had kept her bracelet from her mother, making her able to make a bow and arrow, or a sword when she takes it off, Amaya had a separate bracelet, so naturally she shared it with her sister.
"Oh, man," said Annabeth, looking at the battle raging on the hill.
What worried Percy most wasn't the bulls themselves. Or the ten heroes in full battle armor who were getting their bronze-plated booties whooped. What worried him was that the bulls were ranging all over the hill, even around the back side of the pine tree. That shouldn't have been possible. The camp's magic boundaries didn't allow monsters to cross past Thalia's tree. But the metal bulls were doing it anyway.
One of the heroes shouted, "Border patrol, to me!" A girl's voice-gruff and familiar.
"It's Clarisse," Annabeth said. "Come on, we have to help her."
Normally, rushing to Clarisse's aid would not have been high on Percy's "to do" list. She was one of the biggest bullies at camp. The first time they'd met she tried to introduce his head to a toilet. She was also a daughter of Ares, and he'd had a very serious disagreement with her father last summer, so now the god of war and all his children basically hated Percy's guts.
Still, she was in trouble. Her fellow warriors were scattering, running in panic as the bulls charged. The grass was burning in huge swathes around the pine tree. One hero screamed and waved his arms as he ran in circles, the horsehair plume on his helmet blazing like a fiery Mohawk. Clarisse's own armor was charred. She was fighting with a broken spear shaft, the other end embedded uselessly in the metal joint of one bull's shoulder.
Percy uncapped his ballpoint pen. It shimmered, growing longer and heavier until he held the bronze sword Anaklusmos in his hands. "Tyson, stay here. I don't want you taking any more chances."
"No!" Annabeth said. "We need him."
Percy stared at her. "He's mortal. He got lucky with the dodge balls, but he can't-"
Amaya whipped her head in Annabeth's direction. "He doesn't know?"
Percy paused, looking between them, clearly confused. "What don't I know?"
