II: Damned Blessing

As we fell, Percy screamed and invoked the name of every god he knew. Holy Tartarus heard him, that's how loud he was being. I barely cared. I looked around, although the air cut my eyes and made it burn, wondering if there was any possibility of getting out of this sticky situation… alive, preferably. But frankly, dying from fall damage wasn't so bad.

Until we slowed down. By a lot. Finally we landed on rough grass, next to a highway, as if we fell from, perhaps, a first floor window. No wounds. No people.

"Jesus." I panted. "What the fuck was that?"

"I ask you." he replied, his hands on his knees "The horses just went crazy! Where are we anyways?"

"Connecticut" I answered, pointing at sign we conveniently landed next to. "No one here, empty road."

"Blackjack and Skotos are gone. We need to find them." he pointed out, what a genius.

Without responding, I started moving forward without waiting for his approval.

The highway was dead empty. It was like the world forgot about the place we were standing in, everything was quiet. No cars ever showed that they'd ever passed this rough asphalt. There was no wind here, and it was only us and the blazing sun. I tried to piece together some reason to us ending up there, but whatever it was, my brain failed to think of it.

As I strained myself to come up with a half-decent explanation (to no avail), I tripped on what seemed like a lump of… nothing. Which was weird, because I rarely tripped. And the son of Poseidon, who walked only steps behind me, did the excellent job of tripping right with me.

I fell to the floor, and awkwardly he fell on top of me.

I groaned, and turned to try to get up, but he didn't move, instead staring right into me with his sewer water greenish eyes. His cheeks were blushed pink, and his arms weirdly held the ground to prevent his full body weight to fall on me.

"Percy, could you–"

He cut me off leaning his face on mine. I initially thought he lost strength of his arms, but it wasn't the case. His lips touched mine, steadily kissing me. His breath smelled like the rest of him: sea, and his nose tip brushed against my face. I did not expect to find myself kissing him back, but as if out of my control, my own hand slid to the back of his neck, pulling him deeper, closer to me. His tongue pushed its way into my mouth, and I tasted the soft ocean that melted on touch. I didn't stop it, not because I didn't want to, but because I physically couldn't.

I knew what that was. My fucking lineage.

See, some people have patron gods. They protect them, enhance their luck, whatever. Mine was useless, and normally used me for his entertainment, deciding for me who was it I wanted. Because I sure as hell did not want Percy Jackson.

Percy Jackson was anything but my type. He was unserious, stupid, childish, careless. But there I was. Obviously, this was a dream come true to most girls, demigod or not. He wasn't a bad kisser, neither was he bad-looking.

But I hated it. I had never swooned over him like the young empousai, or the other girls in the Army, or anywhere, matter of fact. If he was annoying from far away, he was suicide-worthy up close. I loathed how he smelled like a fucking beach, I hated how his movements felt like waves, and above all I detested the thought of him touching me.

I gathered the strength to kick him off me. He seemed stunned, but I didn't let my eyes rest on him. I turned away from him as I stood up, smacking dust off my jacket.

"You have a girlfriend, Jackson. Control yourself."

I realized how spiteful I sounded and felt a hinge of guilt tugging at me. I turned my head back to look at him, maybe with a pinch less of dread.

Now he was red. Redder than the strawberries me and the crew used to pick off the orchard, redder than the blood we spilled from animal sacrifices. I could see how embarrassed he was, how his eyes looked down to the floor.

"I'm, uh, sorry. I really don't know what went over me, and I, I don't even-" he tried to explain himself, but I knew it was of no use. I pretended to forgive him with a nod.

Then, a crisp, dry crackle turned my head. It sounded like a rock, maybe wood breaking. Someone or something was watching us. My limbs tensed up, alarmed, and I reached for Kronos' dagger. My hand stopped at the hilt, nervous and ready.

"Did you hear that?" I asked, wondering if I was hallucinating. "That noise."

The unsheathing of Percy Jackson's blade hissed past the air.

"We should keep our heads up." he murmured, alert with his Riptide in hand. Before he could start his next sentence, the sound repeated itself, this time louder and closer.

Soon, it skipped around us in a full circle, taunting us like a cat to its prey. It stopped.

"I would hardly say you could, in fact, keep your heads up for love!" a voice scoffed from behind me. It was deep, smooth, and sounded like the art of a million harps, slowly cutting open my chest and reaching for my heart.

The voice's owner was as beautiful as itself. The man stood tall, chin up, hands alongside his hips. His skin was tan, and every line of him had been carefully drawn. The right amount of softness, and the harshness came naturally. His blood red eyes shone past us, drowning us in divine beauty. Did I mention the wings? Eros looked at me with a proud, vain, smile.

What a fucking bitch of a patron god.

"Eros." I said, clearing Percy's doubt "Stupid god of love and whatever more"

"Erica..." Percy whispered to me "Talking like that to a god causes you like... bad luck for the rest of your life."

"I already got bad luck for the rest of my life." I answered, my voice stale.

"Bad luck?" sung Eros beautifully. "Oh, dear child! How could you say that!? It's a blessing!"

"Fuck you and your blessing, Eros. You forfeited my right to love, and that of my children, and of all the descendants I will bear." I did not succumb to his beautiful voice, and instead marched against him in protest. Still, his divinity seemed to try to drown out my rage.

He came closer, angered. Percy was just standing there, with his sword lifted. Suddenly, he meddled in, saying:

"Well, I've met your mother, and she has a pretty messed up idea of what is an 'interesting love life'. I guess you inherited that."

"Stay out of this, cousin." Eros warned.

Jackson looked at me, grinning with a blink, and then swung his sword at Eros. Stupid move, of course. Eros dodged out of the way and sent a strong gust of wind, making Percy fall a couple meters away. He groaned, but I did not look his way. How arrogantly stupid of him.

"You have intrigued me. Perhaps it is the way you move or the way you act, but it mustn't be only your face and body, can it?" he mumbled, attempting to intimidate me moving closer to me. He was so close I could smell the rose oil Psyche liked, so close I could feel his perfect nose, so close I almost wanted to run away.

My heartbeat fastened as if I was running a marathon, but I wouldn't show him that. My trickling sweat and my tightened throat kept me uncomfortable, but still I stared him down, as my hand reached for my dagger again.

"Get the fuck out of my personal space." I said, gritting down my teeth.

In return, he chuckled. Out of all the gods, he was one of whom I despised the most. His witty ego and certainty was insane.

"I have to say, girl… You're very brave, very…" he leaned closer to me. "Maybe–"

His discourse was interrupted by his own painful scream. I twisted my blade again, right where they say Psyche dropped the oil, and delighted upon his raging agony.

"Everything is your fault. All of my worst misfortunes can be blamed upon you, you worthless divinity. The Titans were worth more than you, your hubris. Die." I growled, pulling him closer to further bury my knife down his shoulderblade.

To my somewhat surprise, he did not back away, and instead his hand grabbed me by my neck and obligated me to incline my whole face on his. His eyes looked mad in anger, and the guttural sound he let out almost scared me.

"Then I will see your misfortunes, dumb girl. And you will see them too, and so will the rest of the world."

I felt his finger pressing against my carotid artery, and I squirmed in discomfort, letting out a whine in attempt to free myself. His grip was strong, and an evil smile formed on his lips, as my vision turned gold. I glanced at Percy, who looked too stunned to even do anything, he too was startled by the golden flooding the scenery, so I knew it was not private to me.

Fuck.

Eros would keep his word. He would make me go through it again, he would make Perseus watch every detail of my existence, flash before my eyes every single memory I have.

My father's death came first. The heavy smell of blood that weighed upon the living room as the hellhound stalked my father haunted me and Ethan, hiding behind an armchair. I was nine, and Ethan had just gone through his tenth birthday. Returning home to see that wolf preying upon us, to smell the corpse had been traumatizing the first time, but all of my nightmares and memoirs of that day only worsened, fed by fears and trauma.

Months later, our uncle. A dracaena, her spear running past, through him. Her hiss.

The boys from school. The demigods, sent there to get some other people, people that mattered. Children of Ares, and Athena, and Apollo. How they'd walked past me in the halls, how they'd smiled at me and sent me notes, without even smelling my despair, my need for saving.

Recruited by Kronos… That was a jolly memory. Luke had forced us to join the "cause" quite efficiently. Having me watch my brother under effect of the blood of a gorgon, making me cry at their feet, begging them to save him.

When I heard Alabaster Torrington, talking about the gods. He rallied the angry demigods and the resentful monsters, he spoke to us and he knew what to say. He'd allied us to the Army, truly. He made my every fight and quest be heartfelt, out of pure anger.

And Chris. Oh, gods, Chris. I thought he liked me... I thought he wouldn't hurt me, he swore he wouldn't ever hurt me.

He lied.

The night he cornered me in his room, that night when he...

Ethan beat him to half-death after that. I hated myself for it. I hated Eros for it.

Things worsened after that. Kronos was messing up everyone's mind, and Luke was scared, more than anyone, and he hated showing it. A moment of weakness meant to be exploited. One night, he came to my room. He'd knocked desperately, consistently.

"Erica, shut the door. Now." he said, so commanding I did so immediately, without thinking. I turned around, and instantly his mask dropped to his feet. He was a kid. A kid who was so scared of death, so resentful of life.

"Erica. I don't want to die." he whimpered, and tears rolled down his cheeks. "I don't want to die. Help me. Please help me."

I knew how much it hurt his pride, crying to a girl half his size, strength, and age, but seemingly I was one of the only choices left.

He wanted out. I held him as he cried, his head on my shoulder. I knew why he had come to me out of everyone. I was the youngest of his friends, and the one who least trusted Kronos. Ethan would've died for what he thought of justice, and Alabaster would be too conflicted between war and friendship.

"Luke." I told him, pulling him away from me by his shoulders. "Look at me. It's okay. It's okay. You're not going to die."

"Go find Annabeth. She loves you. Ask her to run away with you. Beg her. Then run. Run like your life depended on it, because it does. Run."

It didn't succeed. His consciousness was buried under the unbearable weight of a deity who was so desperate to live after eons of nothingness. Under the weight of Kronos.

I believe that he loved me, or I wanted to believe that. He promised me so much… He saw past the curse. The bittersweet heartache of the memory of my paramour was abruptly interrupted by burning, cutthroat rage.

They told me Ethan was killed by Percy Jackson, they told me the savior of Olympus had slaughtered him and dishonored the Nakamura name. I went to the Labyrinth, put myself through the madness of it to find him and to avenge my brother.

The battle was… Painfully intense. I am not a bad fighter, I am quick and responsive, and I do not lack skill nor strength. But when I saw Chris there, I froze. My fear had been greater than my rage and vendetta. He fought with the Ares girl to his back, a girl who loved him and who he loved. How come he deserved to love and to be loved after what he'd done to me? He barely deserved to live.

They dragged me away kicking and cursing after the battle was lost and my insistence refused to let me leave with the others. My shouts were louder than the cries of the grieving and the wails of the injured. How I'd cursed at Percy Jackson for being a murderer, for murdering my brother.

The Big House. Apparently, the need to win the war was greater than Chiron's morals. I was the only prisoner that they'd taken that had access to useful information, so they turned the cabin into a makeshift torture chamber. Beckendorf scarred me with burning irons and bruised me with brass knuckles, but still I'd said nothing.

Percy would come and attempt to persuade me and convince me that he hadn't killed Ethan, which turned out to be very ineffective. Connor, however… He was a good person. He'd sit by me for hours at night, talking to me without asking for answers.

Ethan came for me after that. Percy watched us leave silently, without sounding the alarm as I limped away. Ethan had held me close to him, cursing everyone who'd touched me whenever a single tear dropped. I remembered seeing his face, as his tears rolled down in silent anger. How he blamed himself for not protecting me like he had sworn to our father.

Kronos saw me back at Princess Andromeda. When I entered his chambers, his expression went blank. As if he was simply assimilating how I'd changed, remembering every bruise on my body. His chest had started to pump up and down quicker and more irregularly, and his hand trembled. His voice broke when he said my name, when he hugged me tight enough to hurt me. He swore to inflict the pain of a thousand worlds to whoever had harmed me.

Ethan died. At the hands of the one I loved. Had I loved him? Not more than my brother. Never more than my brother. Everyone died.

The golden hue wore out around the edges of my vision, then around the rest of my eyes. Eros' finger was still around my artery, his face was still against mine, but it felt gentler. As if he offered comfort to me.

I pushed him away from me, and he did not resist. He looked dumbstruck, like even he didn't predict that amount of bullshit to happen to a 17 year old. He almost seemed apologetic, you know? I looked at him. Golden ichor dripped down his feathers, stained my hands. My dagger was fallen on the highway.

"You're very strong, like Psyche. I…" he seemed at a lost of words, but I didn't buy it. Tears silently ran past my eyes, dropping on the dusty asphalt. He brought his fingers to his lips, and reached his hand toward my forehead.

I stepped back, and in place of my shock came the fury.

"Don't touch me." I growled, and he stopped in his tracks. "Don't act apologetic at me. Fucking gods. Show me all that shit again for your entertainment? Act all sorry like it isn't ALL YOUR FAULT???"

"I didn't think my blessing would bring so much suffering to you mortals."

"Why are you here?" I asked, lowering my tone. He looked guiltily at his own feet. "Leave."

And with that thin provocation, his fake compassion sank through the ground, revealing how simple and inhuman Eros truly was. In his eyes, not a single shred of mercy was left.

"Lower your hubris." he commanded. I wasn't very inclined to obey.

"No. Leave." I repeated, my chin up and my shoulders raised back. Tears still slid down my face miserably, but I didn't care. He stared me down, as proud as me.

"Eros, please." pleaded Percy, bowing his own head in my stead. As if I needed him to do so.

And like that, Eros was gone. Dissipated into thin air.

Percy cautiously approached me, mumbling that I could confide in him. He put his arm around my shoulders, assuring me that I could cry if I wanted to, but I knew. I didn't need his pity.

I refused and shook his arm off.