Alternatively

Once Upon A Dream (v.)

He was sleeping.

Which wasn't the reaction she expected, but she was totally okay with it.

She rubbed her chest, scrolling through her phone absentmindedly. Already, reports of a terrorist attack on the museum popped up on her screen. Thalia had texted to check in and Matthew called once, but nothing alarmed her as much as the dull ache in her chest. When the curse had passed through, it felt like a piece was trapped inside her. It was a lump in her throat she couldn't swallow, it was a cramp in her side that wouldn't fade.

She knew it wanted to get out as much as she wanted it gone, but something prevented it from escaping.

Percy snored lightly, eyes fluttering as the bus went over a bump in the road. She hoped he slept the whole way to the port; it was the first time she had seen him sleep since waking him up. Even more so, she didn't want to hear what he was thinking.

He had been so quiet when she explained her dream, answering with a simple, "Oh."

That probably wasn't a good sign.

She sighed, closing app after app with little prejudice. The camera was frozen on two people as she hovered over the screen and after a second, she opened the roll to find the pictures from the moments before the curse struck. The woman had taken a lot, most blurry as they talked and tried to pose. The look on his face when she pulled him into a headlock was priceless, but the look on hers when he scooped her into his arms was startling.

She looked like she was in love.

Scowling, Annabeth closed that app too and stared at the ceiling.

The air in the bus buzzed with tension, shock from the days events still reeling in everyone's heads. No one but Grover, Percy, and herself had been hurt in the blast, which was relieving, and everyone wanted to know what had happened. Luckily, no one had known they had been so close to the accident, not knowing to ask. They just whispered, not quite afraid but not too bold either. It made her frown to see Travis's face look so serious.

Rain started to streak the windows and she wondered how rocky their trip across the English Channel was going to be. She went on a friend's yacht once during a light storm and threw up what felt like an entire week's worth of food.

"Psst."

She rolled her head, blinking across the aisle. "Hmm?"

"Do you have a charger?" Micheal wiggled his phone slightly. "I left mine at the last hotel."

"No, not a portable."

"Oh. Thanks, anyway."

Micheal wasn't someone she talked to a lot, but he had been the first to offer help when she was sick in Paris. He also had the weirdest set of degrees lined up, with a BioMed major and a minor in European Folk Lore. She remembered taking Calc III with him and catching him reading a textbook for The Origin of Curses.

"Say, Micheal," she mused. "Did you ever take a class on witches?"

He tilted his head. "Yeah, kind of, two semesters ago. Why?"

"Just curious about what the real story of them is."

"You know that a lot of people claimed someone to be a witch if they did anything like science or spoke out against an established faith, right?"

"Yeah, we both know that's the reality," she sat up straighter. "But folk lore speaking, what was a witch supposed to be capable of? Could they take away spells or curses set in place by other witches?"

"Most regional lore agreed that curses can only be broken if the stipulations were fulfilled, and it'd take a stronger witch to break it without them being met. Though, in Celtic regions, witches didn't cast spells like we think of today, and-"