Percy Jackson x Male Reader The Sea of Monsters

A Normal Week At Camp

Y/n's POV

I felt the darkness recede. But the pain remained. Either way they were back, and there wasn't any doubt about it. The real question was did I trust them? Or even now would I fight against them. Despite the chance I might die?

"Y/n!"

My eyes shot open and I sat up quickly. The only thing I could make out was Percy and Tyson sitting beside me. And as I began to fully regain my senses I convulsed and blood spat out of my mouth onto the grass in front of me. I sat there for a minute or two just coughing and shaking from the pain. Trying to get a hold of myself. And slowly the throbbing seemed to recede and the blood stopped flowing from my throat.

"Y/n are you-"

"30, 31, 75, 12. She said we could save her. Save the camp. I just have to remember."

Percy and Tyson exchanged a confused look.

"Y/n you're not making any sense. We're going to get you some help."

I shook my head. "I'm fine-"

Before I could respond. Tyson picked me up in his arms as Percy grabbed my spear that had fallen next to me after I had passed out. And soon we were walking off to the camp grounds.

I wanted to protest that I was perfectly fine. Though I knew wasn't , and I also knew that whatever was happening to me couldn't be cured at camp. But frankly I was too tired and too burned out to protest. So I merely continued to repeat those same words in my head as we walked down the hill. As I gave one last look out to the withered husk that was Thalia's tree. And the puddle of blood that moistened the grass. But as I looked closer, I could make out the subtle darkness of inky shadows swirling within that crimson liquid. And it sent a shiver up my spine and the echo of a mocking laugh reverberating in my mind.

Percy's POV

The next few days were torture, just like Tantalus wanted.

First there was Tyson moving into the Poseidon cabin, giggling to himself every fifteen seconds and saying, "Percy is my brother?" like he'd just won the lottery.

"Aw, Tyson," I'd say, "It's not that simple."

But there was no explaining it to him. He was in heaven. And me . . . as much as I liked the big guy, I couldn't help feeling embarrassed. Ashamed. There I said it.

And the days weren't made any better by how distant Y/n was getting. He still made an effort to drop in every once and a while to hang out or practice sword fighting. But after we found him on Thalia's hill coughing blood and looking half dead. He seemed more distant, like his mind was somewhere else. Planning for something.

In better news Annabeth and I had come together for the chariot race. We had tried to approach Y/n as well to help us out. But he replied that he had already been putting together a chariot of his own. Before walking off, to continue his distant internal planning.

To say the least me and Annabeth were worried about him. He kept mumbling the same numbers to himself 30, 31, 75, 12. And spouting at random comments like an internal debate. And every day he seemed to get worse. More fatigues, more tired, and more pained. At first we thought it was insufficient sleep combined with the earth traveling. But as more days went by, that reasoning become more and more unlikely. And any time he went to the Apollo cabin or the infirmary no one could give him any help or even a diagnosis of what was wrong. All they could do was feed him rations of ambrosia and nectar. Which seemed to help a little. We tried to ask him about it, what was happening to him. But either he had no idea himself or he wasn't telling us.

I wanted to confront him about, me and Annabeth did. But after a nasty falling out over the chariot race. And the splitting up of our team, those plans fell through.