Percy Jackson One Shots

Thalia Grace

I had to bust out Thaluka at some point guys. This is before they find Annabeth. In fact this is when they first meet. Enjoy. (Also, just pretend empousai can create fireballs, cause it makes this story so much better.)

Mom is out of her mind. He can't be dead. That's just not possible. Jason, my little brother. Gods above, he was only two.

I toss and turn in my bed until the early hours of dawn poke through the window. I stare at the pinkish sky. My little brother Jason has occupied all my thoughts last night, but the morning brings on a new proposal. I'm going to run away.

I can't stay here a second longer. The vomit, the screams, the broken glass of wine bottles spilt everywhere. His death. That is the last straw. It's too much. I stayed here only because Jason couldn't leave too. Now he's gone. Soon I'll be gone too. I wonder if my mother will even know I'm missing, and if she does, will she care? I doubt it. She didn't seem to care too much when Jason died.

I wonder what my father will think. But that's a joke, I know he couldn't care less. Why would Zeus, Lord of the Sky and King of the Gods, care about one little measly messed up teenage daughter when he fathered Hercules and Perseus and countless other heroes of Greek Mythology. Why would he give a shit about me?

Flinging the sheets off me and onto the ground, I stand and stretch. Today is the day I leave. Today is the day I run.

A wail emerges from downstairs, maddening and bloodcurdling. I shiver. I hear the smash of glass against a wall. Another awful screech. More smashing. She must go through a box of wineglasses a day, my mother.

I pull on some clothes and fling my back pack on my shoulder. Inside it are a few toiletries — not exactly necessary, but useful — and some extra clothing. I also buckle a sword onto my belt to complete my new look. I'm going to run from this hellhole, but I'm going to embrace myself. I won't be known as Thalia Grace anymore. No, from now on I'm Thalia. Just Thalia.

Thalia. Daughter of Zeus. Demigod.

I haven't fought a single monster in my life, I will admit this. But doesn't my ADHD keep me from dying or something? I think that's what Zeus said the last time. Gods, I don't remember. Whoops.

It's then I notice that the screaming has stopped. The house has fallen silent once more. I creep downstairs. Sure enough my mother is passed out on the kitchen floor, red wine soaking into her clothes like blood and an empty wine glass in her hand. I sprint past her, grabbing her overflowing cash filled wallet and a package of granola bars to keep me going. I stuff both things into my bag as I hustle out the door.

The sunlight hits me. I breathe it in. I smile. But I'm not home free yet. I jog down the street, keeping up a nice pace. After a hour or so, I arrive at a LA bus terminal.

I check my money supply. I've got lots. Couple grand at least. Now the booming question is: where to go? I scan the charts. Las Vegas. New York. Seattle. Miami. San Fransisco. I don't know why, but my eyes linger on the last one. San Fransisco.

Thalia. Demigod. Survivor of San Fransisco.

Somehow this title appeals to me. So I walk up to the guy at the desk and hand him a wad of cash. "One ticket to San Fransisco."

"Round trip?"

"Nah. Just one way."

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In San Fransisco

I wander the streets aimlessly. The sun is disappearing behind the tall buildings of downtown. I should be looking for somewhere to stay. Somewhere kind of run down. Somewhere where they'd accept a kid's money and wouldn't ask dumb questions, like "Where are your parents, sweetie?". A couple more blocks later I find a likely candidate. It's three stories high, with rotting balconies on the third level and when I open the door, there's no lock or alarm and swings open at the slightest of touches.