𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐚; percy jackson

𝟐𝟏 | ares on the horizon

The group—Grover, Annabeth, and Meara—emerged into the open air, the storm outside slowly fading into an uneasy calm. Meara's eyes flicked downward, focusing on the scattered rocks on the ground. One by one, she counted them, trying to keep her thoughts from spiraling. She felt helpless—like the small, frightened child she once was, clutching her mother's lifeless body. She couldn't bear another loss. Not now.

He had been the only one who knew what happened in the temple—when Zeus had spoken to her. He had been there to steady her when she woke from the trance, the weight of the vision still crushing her.

"I need to tell you guys something," Meara said quietly, breaking the silence. She picked up a small rock and hurled it into the water.

Annabeth sat beside her, her curiosity tempered with concern. "What is it, Meara?" Grover perched on Meara's other side, leaning in closer as if to catch every word.

Meara glanced between them, then fixed her gaze on the ground. "You remember back there—when I hugged Percy?" she asked, her voice low.

"Yeah." Grover nodded. "What was that about?" His tone was teasing, but the mention of Percy's name brought a flicker of pain to his face. He sank back into his spot without another word.

Meara noticed, but said nothing. Instead, she continued. "When we were alone...I had a vision. It felt so real—like he was right there with me."

"Who was?" Annabeth asked, her voice tight, worry evident beneath the surface.

"Zeus," Meara admitted, her tone flat, her fingers sifting through the rocks again. "He was in my head—he spoke to me, showed me some stuff."

Annabeth and Grover exchanged a look, the kind of glance that carried unspoken fear.

Taking a deep breath, Meara recounted the vision—the words, the overwhelming presence, everything Zeus had shown her. She didn't leave anything out. As the details unfolded, none of them spoke much. Words felt unnecessary; instead, the silence between them turned into a fragile but comforting kind of understanding. They sat close, the shared proximity grounding them in a moment that could have shattered.

Then, a familiar voice broke the stillness. "You guys look like a pile of misery."

Grover shot to his feet so fast it startled the others. He spun around and froze, his eyes widening. Standing there, very much alive and unharmed, was Percy.

Annabeth stood too, her relief spilling over as she rushed to hug him. Percy was caught off guard, though he happily returned the hug, his gaze shifting to Meara, who was still sitting.

Slowly, she got to her feet. Her eyes met his, unreadable at first, before her whole body turned to face him.

Percy smiled softly at her, but Meara wasn't smiling. Not even close.

When Annabeth finally let go, Percy opened his arms toward Meara, expecting another hug.

He didn't get one.

Instead, she stormed toward him and grabbed the front of his shirt.

"Whoa, Meara!" Grover raised his hands in alarm, but she ignored him.

"You idiot," she snapped, shoving Percy backward.

Percy's expression shifted from surprise to confusion. "Hey—what's your problem?" he asked, trying to shield himself from another push.

"My problem? My problem is you!" Her voice cracked with frustration. "You left us. You made this stupid, reckless choice! What if it had gotten you killed, huh? Did you think about that?"

"But I didn't die! Poseidon saved me!" Percy protested, backing up as she advanced on him.

"Don't you dare do something like that again. Do you hear me?" She demanded, not even fully acknowledging his words.

Percy stopped moving, their faces now just inches apart. He raised his hands in surrender, his voice softening. "Okay, okay. I get it. I promise." He hesitated, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. "But...you are happy to see me, right?"

Meara's jaw tightened as she shoved him again—not hard, but just enough to let him know she wasn't about to answer.

Percy stumbled back slightly as Grover and Annabeth exchanged glances behind them. Meara, meanwhile, turned away, her silence speaking louder than any words could.

"Also, we need to go to Santa Monica." Percy mentioned casually while following Meara to the rest of the group.

•

"Great, now that the cops are after us, I don't have to worry about my physique," Meara quipped, glancing down the deserted road they were walking on for the past half an hour.

"I'm starting to think this quest might be harder than we thought," Percy admitted.

Meara raised an eyebrow. "What an original observation," she shot back but gestured for him to continue.

Percy gave her a sharp look before speaking again. "I've been thinking. I didn't steal the master bolt. You didn't steal the master bolt. We're pretty sure Hades has the master bolt, but he couldn't have taken it himself, right?" He paused, frowning as the pieces failed to fit together. "We don't even know who actually stole it, or why, or how far this goes!"

Meara, Grover and Annabeth exchanged knowing glances, a faint smile tugging at both their lips at Percy's delayed realization.

"I'm the last one to figure this out, aren't I?" Percy asked, catching their looks.

"Can't say I'm surprised," Meara said with a smirk.

"Okay, fine. So maybe when we started this quest, I wasn't entirely focused. But since... the river—" He hesitated, his voice softening. "Everything feels different now. He saved me—my dad."

Meara had a sharp retort ready but stopped herself. The sincerity in Percy's voice gave her pause. Instead, she offered him a brief encouraging smile—quick enough to avoid giving him the wrong idea.

Their conversation was cut short by the rumble of an engine echoing down the abandoned street.

"That's a motorcycle," Annabeth noted as the group tensed, scanning the road ahead. "Let's just stay out of sight."

Without another word, they crouched behind a cluster of stone bumpers on the roadside.

The engine, however, didn't pass by. Instead, it came to a halt directly beside their hiding spot.

"Need some help?" a gruff voice called out.

The group peeked over their cover to see a man astride a powerful black bike.

"Nope. We're fine. Thanks, though!" Grover answered quickly, his tone overly polite.

"You don't look fine," the man said, unfazed.

"We don't need anything from you," Annabeth replied firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Really? Because you lot are cutting it awfully close," he said, tilting his head. "Summer solstice is just a few days away. And as much as I'd love to see a war break out, as your big cousin, I figured I'd offer you some help."

"Cousin?" Percy repeated, confused.

"Ares," Annabeth explained tersely as soon as she realized.

The man grinned, his eyes briefly flicking to Annabeth. "You must be Athena's kid. Always gotta be the smartest one in the bunch." His gaze shifted to Meara, and his grin widened. "But you... uncharacteristically quiet for Zeus' kid."

Meara straightened, her glare sharp. "How do you know that?"

"Oh, everyone knows," Ares said with a dismissive laugh. "Look, I'm on the same errand as you. Zeus sent me to track down his master bolt too. So if you want my help, meet me at the diner down the road. I won't wait forever." With that, he revved his engine and sped off, leaving them in a cloud of dust.

Percy stared after him. "That's my cousin? What kind of family is this?"

Meara was too consumed by her thoughts to respond, her mind tangled in the mystery of how Ares had discerned her identity with nothing more than a glance at her face.