♡ A Percabeth AU ♡
In this life time Percy is a prince that wants people to see him more than just a prince. He wants people to see him as himself. The guy that is charming by personality, the guy that is rich by hard work. Not because he is born a...
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A single line of the great prophecy seemed to be the dreaded line that will predict the end. Although no line in the great prophecy is significantly delightful this one was exceedingly dreadful. The single line of the great prophecy that seemed to be the causes of my nightmares. When I go to sleep all I can hear is that single line echoing repeatedly through my mind.
A hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap.
Everyone knew who that line was written for. Everyone knew that I would be on the receiving end of that cursed blade. Although nobody seemed to dare say it out loud, everyone knew who the heroin in that line was. Everyone knew but no one actually knew.
Camp Half-Blood is full of heroes. Heroes that have laid down their lives for the greater well-being of the universe. Heroes that are children. Heroes that have families. Heroes that have friends. Heroes that now will never see what their futures could have become.
When I saw Luke fighting within himself in the grand throne room of the gods, his eyes flickered out of focus as he fought for control against the king of titans. He fought with himself right in front of the great throne room where the gods looked over the universes.
The gods that were our parents, the gods that were supposed to protect us. The one that we sacrificed every night, every day, our every breath for. The same ones that we would whisper our greatest desires to when we didn't have enough hope to say them out loud. In the end when it actually matters those same gods can't do anything--they can do anything except when it actually matters.
A hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap.
Everyone knew that I was the great hero. The hero that could save everyone and everything from destruction. Everyone knew but nobody knew at the same time.
My whole world tipped upside down, and I gave the blade to Luke. The cursed blade that reaps the hero's soul.
I saw Luke sprawled at the hearth. He didn't stab himself hard but it was in the right spot. If it was any other spot Kronos' scythe wouldn't have liquefied into molten metal and it wouldn't have trickled into the coals of the hearth, which wouldn't have started glowing like a blacksmith's furnace.
Luke's left side was bloody. His eyes were open-- blue eyes, the way they used to be.
I've seen enough death that I knew when it was coming. I'm no doctor but with my 4 years of experience as a professional demigod, I just know when things are about to happen. It wasn't the heavy breathing or the dilated eyes, it was just a feeling in my gut. A feeling that every single demigod that has fought for the gods knew. It wasn't a tickle, it was more like someone took their hand and stuck it in your abdomen and refused to let go.
Although I didn't dare say it out loud the look on my face must have shown my thoughts. He nodded as if he'd expected it. He nodded as if he could understand everything I was saying even though I didn't even whimper a single word.
