So, I had this writing assignmnt for my cretive writing class at school, and we had to write a fan fiction of an "episode" from a stroy from a minor character's point of view. I had loads of fun with this. Enjoy! Oh, and I own nothing in here except for Ethan's internal monologue. All rights to Rick Riordan and whatnot.
All of my senses are thrumming, alive. Adrenaline courses through my system, making my hands shake. I can hear the muffled shouts of a crowd waiting to be entertained. The stone door lifts, casting a pale glow in the corridor I was sent from. I’m slightly blinded from being the dark for so long, but my eye quickly adjusts.
I scan the crowd and shiver. Two-headed monsters, fiends with wings, fire for hair, and giants with only one eye. These are my true foes. Every fiber of my being wants to run them through with my sword. These are the monsters I was born to kill.
But I turn my gaze to the other demigod in the arena, and my blood runs cold.
Percy Jackson. The Percy Jackson. They want me to fight him? There’s no way I’ll walk out of here alive…
I shake my head. Come on, Nakamura, get it together. What good is a son of the sea god underground, anyway?
Percy has no armor on. That’ll make him swift, but extremely vulnerable. He has two eyes, already and advantage over me. But I have a shield. He doesn’t want to fight me. I don’t particularly want to fight him, either, but I have to prove myself.
I put my sword in the ground to adjust my armor, protecting my left side.
“Who are you?” he asks me.
“Ethan Nakamura,” I answer. Keep it quick. “I have to kill you.”
“Why are you doing this?” He sounds desperate. Their side must be worse off than ours.
Before I can answer him, a monster yells out from the crowd. They want to see the show. But I somehow can’t stop myself from telling him, “I have to prove myself. Only way to join up.” As I say it, it sounds stupid. I shake my head again. Focus.
I charge at him, hoping to surprise him, but his sword clangs against mine. I pressed him, lunge, parry, thrust, stab. He meets my every move. I can’t touch him. I push myself harder. I parry one of his strikes, and try to push him off with my shield, but he jumps back. I slash at him, he rolls away. We continue our dance, trying to figure out the other’s style. He keeps pressing my left, but I’ve been without an eye long enough to know how to protect myself. A monster from the stands calls out, “Blood!” and I look up. At this rate, I’ll never be able to join. All of this suffering for nothing. I yell and charge, pushing Percy back. Even without a shield, he’s good at defense. I start tiring. My armor is so heavy. I jab at his stomach, feel my wrist twist, and just like that, my sword is gone. Then Percy slams my head with the butt of his sword, and I fall. He places the tip of his sword on my chest.
I’ve been beaten. I’m going to die. I’ll never get to play my role. “Get it over with,” I tell him. He’s taking too long. Why won’t he just end my humiliation?
Percy looks away. “Forget it,” he says. He puts his sword away.
“Don’t be a fool” I hear myself moan. “They’ll just kill us both.”
He doesn’t listen though. He just sticks out his hand. I stare at it a while, then grab it. He helps me up. I can hear Antaeus yell, but all my attention is on Percy. He spared me. Why?
