𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐖 ,, percy jackson

𝐈 : aurora and percy are sleeping beauty variants

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈
❝ aurora—like sleeping beauty? ❞
౨ৎ

"Somebody get him some mouth tape," Aurora muttered.

She reached for a tissue from the nightstand and wiped the drool that was dripping down the boy's lip for the seventh time. If it were up to her, she would have applied duct tape to Percy's lips and hoped he didn't suffocate.

"I don't know why you agreed to watch over him," Annabeth sighed from the bench.

Aurora wanted to explain how her fear of letting down Chiron (or anybody in general) made her feel like butterflies were repeatedly crashing in her stomach, but every time she tried to form it into words, she felt pathetic. She wished she knew how to put it into words; it would've made everything easier for her.

Percy began to take deeper breaths and mumble words that neither of them could understand. His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the sunlight flowing into the cabin and muffled voices from outside.

Once he could see clearly, his eyes immediately darted to a girl that was standing beside the bed. A crescent moon hairpin was in her hair that was brown hair that looked unusually cold; her brown eyes (that were clearly watching him judgmentally) were brown like trees in a forest after a long day of rain.

For a hot minute, he wondered if he died and went to heaven. She seemed so ethereal, like something out of the universe of Maleficent. Maybe his mom put in a good word with Jesus for him. Then it hit him—all the events from the night before.

Grover was a goat, his pen took notes from a transformer, and his mom was—dead.

His jaw clenched as a knot formed in his stomach; he didn't want to be awake or staring at a pretty girl; he wanted his mom. Percy looked like he was struggling to move; even his breath looked desperate. Aurora was removed from her inner thoughts by the boys mumbling, approaching him slowly.

"Rest, Grover will return soon."

౨ৎ

Aurora crouched on the ground, leaves crushing beneath her knees, her fingertips brushing the root of a tree that lacked leaves and had bark peeling from its trunk. As soon as she touched the tree, she could sense the hollowness and chill of death.

Her first instinct was to let go of the tree and let it rest in its final days. It was the cycle of life, after all, and the camper's volleyballs were always getting stuck in its branches. Aurora couldn't help but feel sorry for the tree, given the ice cold chill it'd been feeling. She knew she could heal it, allowing it to feel a moment of the warm sun, so why would she let it fade into time?

Part of her couldn't help but feel nervous; despite her healing wilted flowers and crystals that were shattered into many pieces, she never had healed a tree before—especially one twice her size. Taking a deep breath, she shut her eyes and distracted herself from all the noise around her, focusing on the feeling of the bark scratching her palm.

She channeled all energy into her fingertips, the noise around her beginning to turn muffled. Aurora could feel growing closer to the tree as the seconds passed with her magic entering the tree's roots and making its way to the top. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until she felt a sharp pain in her head, her eyes immediately opening.

The discomfort didn't stop there; breathing became difficult, and everything became fuzzy. She wanted to pause, pull away, and let the tree go on with its life. But then she could see bark starting to grow back where it had peeled off. She couldn't let go; she needed to finish what she'd started.