Them. I'm So Normal About Them.

A stupid little thought

But I was re-reading that part where Percy realizes Annabeth is beautiful and he loves her and just—

I can’t help but wonder when Luke started thinking the same about you in Waking up in PJO

Like you’d always been good looking, a little soft considering you get winded just climbing a hill, but objectively attractive.

But lately it’s like something else entirely. When he looks at you it feels like he’s watching a time-lapse of a flower coming to full bloom. The sigh of your smile alone has him clutching his chest and hiding his blushing face.

And he’s not the only one who’s noticed either. Yesterday you waved at a boy from the Aphrodite cabin while he was riding a Pegasus and he was so starstruck he got hit in the face with a tree branch knocking him off his horse. He broke his arm. But you know what he said when he finally came to, pumped full of ambrosia and nectar?

“(Y/N) waved at me.”

A son of Aphrodite enamored with Hades favorite pawn. Romance writers couldn’t write better irony.

And he feels equal parts satisfaction and dismay at the fact.

Because you’ve always been great, and you deserve to grow out of your “father’s” shadow of darkness and evil.

But the small, immature, part of him can’t help but feel that you’ve stopped being his and started being everyone else’s. And he hates feeling like this, you’re not a thing you’re a person. But when he looks at you and he feels the jealous twist in his stomach he can’t help but think he’s no better than his dad.

And just when he thinks he’s beyond help, you make it okay again.

“What’s got you so down?” you ask.

It takes you hours to get to the heart of the issue, skirting around the real problem with “im just tired.” And “the guy in the bunk below mine snores really loud.” Until you finally wear him down.

“I feel like I’m a bad person,” he finally admits. “I feel like a friend of mine is drifting away, and it’s because they’re growing and changing, and I’m happy for them. But I wish it was just the two of us again you know?”

And he’s expecting you to mollify him with words of comfort about all the good he’s done in the world and that he could never be a bad person.

“That’s everyone though.”

He looks at you with wide eyes, but you don’t seem to notice.

“People grow and change, and it’s always hard regardless of what side of that equation you’re on. What you’re feeling just makes you human.” And then you meet his eyes and the sun is shining behind you, and he can feel his heart in his throat.

Dionysus calls for you and you answer, and he knows, just like his mom he fell for someone he shouldn’t have.

“But that’s human too.”

The waking up in PJO lore no one really wants, but I need to desperately tell someone —

Hades has never been anyone’s favorite parent.

Melinoe, their oldest, has always been so independent, she takes after her grandmother in that way. Orderly and proper, with healthy amounts of ambition and a practical worldview. She doesn’t care much for Olympus or the mortal realm, finding solace with Nyx and Hecate, old immortals with old magic. He’s not surprised when she asks to journey with Hecate to the lower levels of the Underworld. He sees her off, handing her a metal container full of pita bread, hummus, and her favorite olives pickled with lemon and paprika. She’s in such a rush she forgets it on the entryway table in the foyer.

Makaria, their youngest daughter, is a spitfire. Rebellion incarnate, in the shape of a thirteen year old girl. She outgrew the underworld by the time she was sixteen, bored with shades, and Elysium, and jewels. The only time she seemed to be enjoying herself was when Hera came to visit. “I just hate having to learn everything about the mortal realm five years after it’s already happened.” She’d whispered when she accompanied him to bless one of Zeus’ favorite sons, a king of his mortal land, while on his death bed. He sees the way she looks at palace, the ivory columns, and sprawling lush gardens with a conflicted look in her eyes, and he knows it time for her to go. He reaches out to Hera himself, asking if she’ll guide his daughter in the duties of a socialite. He makes pomegranate jam and scones himself when she leaves, and she smiles as she accepts it, but he knows they’ll sit untouched for months until they start to rot.

He never had a chance with Zagreus, not with the way he radiates with wrath, just like his wife. And sure enough, from birth they’re inseparable. Two beings made from the same fabric. Maybe that’s why he hungers for Olympus so desperately, practically trying to claw his way out of the Underworld while Persephone watches with a disappointed frown. He wants to tell her to be more understanding, she was just like him once, begging and scheming to find a way to escape her mother in the mortal realm and climb to Olympus. Understanding comes later, after Zagreus makes it out and returns with hunched shoulders and dark circles. “It’s not what I thought it would be like,” he says, and Persephone holds him as he weeps. Zagreus finds his own footing in the Underworld, becoming a celebrity amongst the shades and nymphs. Hades leaves dinner in the fridge every night, just in case, even though he knows he’ll just end up washing the full containers at the end of the week.

And it’s not that he feels unloved or unappreciated. He loves his children, and he knows that they love and trust him. They just have people they relate to more.

And that’s okay. He’s never been anyone’s favorite god, temples and shrines are built in fear, he knows that. And he’s never been anyone’s favorite brother, that’s why it had to be him that inherited the Underworld. And even Cerberus prefers to sleep with Zagreus these days.

He’s used to it.

But when he holds you for the first time, bundled in a pale cream blanket, he knows that this time is different than all the others. Melinoe might be for the elder's of the Underworld, and Makaria might be for Hera, and Zagreus was undoubtedly made for his wife, but you —

You were made just for him.

And everyone knows it. They can see it in the way only he can soothe your cries in the middle of the night with his scent alone, the way you place a hand on his face and you shriek in delight when he places his hand over it, the way you only eat when it's the baby food he made personally for you, the way he caries you in a sling and whispers to you all that he knows; about the Underworld, about life, about mortals, and how love is the greatest gift and curse of all.

It's in how his heart breaks in two when Zagreus decides to take you to the mortal realm. He knows it's the right thing, you're half mortal yourself, it's where you belong. He does as Zagreus asks, feigning banishment for not adhering to the rules of the Underworld, when Persephone asks why he let him leave. And he watches as his son ascends the steps to the mortal realm, a cream-colored bundle cradled against his chest. He knew this was always going to happen, but he stays in bed the entire week after you're gone anyway, barely registering Persephone's embrace, Melinoe's offerings of water and soup, or Makaria's company.

He only rouses from bed when he realizes he sent you off without any food, he makes your favorites, packs them neatly in stacks of four in a canvas bag and wraps them in two pieces of checker print cloth tied at the top. He can't leave the Underworld, so he sent his best man to deliver them to you, a Cyclops who was good at paperwork and organization.

"I delivered it to the penthouse boss, but don't send me back, they're terrifying," he says with a shiver.

He finds himself smiling, being fearsome is it's own advtange.

He watches you through the eyes of ravens and moths, through the billowy curtains of your penthouse in Manhattan and the windows in your expensive private school next to Central Park that your father liquidates a diamond every month to afford tuition for. He watches you laugh, and make friends, and (unfortunately) develop a very deep soda addiction (he’ll lecture Zagreus when he sees him again).

And you’re six years old, on your way to school when he sees the best pomegranate finally ripen in the garden. He picks it with care, polishing it four times before whistling for Cereberus.

“Could you make a trip for me?”

It’s the greatest mistake of his life, because now Cerberus is at his heels all day, begging for another command to bring you a gift. He looks through the eyes of bird, watching you sit on the kitchen counter cutting a pomegranate, his pomegranate, in half. Smiling as you take a bite of the sweet fruit.

"Their knifework needs help," he mumbles to himself, but his mouth is wobbly and his eyes are warm.

Makaria comes by, asking for money for her tuition fees for NYU, ten years and still no degree. He sighs, he would have paid it anyway, but he might as well get something out of it.

"Deliver this." He hands her a black business card, he only ordered ten cards a millennium ago, and he's only ever handed out two of them. This will be the third. Makaria quirks an eyebrow up, and he shrugs. She wouldn’t understand. "And take Cerberus with you, he's been depressed for weeks now."

He's beside himself with anticipation for when you'll call to meet him. A day goes by, then two, then a week, and as he counts the days he realizes it's been a month. He knows you don't remember him, maybe just the feeling of being held, at best. He knows you mean more to him than what he means to you.

But knowing and hoping are two different things.

He finds himself preoccupying his endless amount of time with work, with balancing the accounts and collecting feedback from the shades, inspecting the areas of his realm. He's trimming the pomegranate tree in the garden when he feels it, a tremor, a calling.

He smiles.

Grabbing whatever he can get his hands on, a pomegrante, a red cloak, jewels, and tweleve years worth of birthday money he's been collecting in a silk pouch.

The first time he sees you in person after eleven years, you're on the ground, your legs tucked underneath your body, golden ichor splashed across your hands, staining the flimsy cotton fabric of your shirt, a glimmer smeared across your cheek.

But your eyes, your eyes haven't changed. You look directly into his eyes, just like when you were no more than two months old and he'd whisper secrets and sweet nothings to you.

His baby. His godling. His child.

His. His. His. His.

And the sight of you alone makes him want to weep, the thought that this is what's been kept from him all these years.

"Will you help me?" Your voice cracks in the middle, tears budding at the corners of your eyes.

He would burn all of Olympus down if you asked.

"Always."

District boy

Pairing: young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader; doppëlganger! Finnick Odair x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: You and Corio were very close (best) friends. Young Snow had a crush on you for a very long time. But he wouldn't let anything distract him—not until he got his family out of their financial troubles. And then comes the 10th Hunger Games, in which you get to be a mentor for a very handsome tribute... Coryo isn't happy about it at all. Requested by: Two anonymous. I hope you will like it! 😊💙🖤 Warning(s): jealous Coriolanus Snow; (doppëlganger) of Finnick Odair; the author doesn't care that it is impossible; Coryo being simp for the reader; reader flirts with Finnick; quote from 'My tears ricochet' by Taylor Swift; Words count: 7k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi ~•♤♤♤•~ Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

Coriolanus did not remember the exact moment when this happened.

Everything that had to do with you came to him very... naturally.

Before he knew it, one joint project for one of your classes turned into daily discussions in the cafeteria. You entered his very small circle of 'friends' like you should have always belonged there and unknowingly became the best friend to young Snow.

And then you started staying in the library after classes, talking about various things (Coriolanus hated himself for wasting his time when he should have been studying on pointless discussions with you, but he always ended up in the library at the end of the day anyway).

And so one day he realised that you were wonderful when you laughed at his jokes. That the smell of your perfume made him hungrier than the baked goods that spread from the bakery he passed by every day on his way to the Academy. That he was missing something as he basked in the glow of your attention. That he would like you to be with him at all times, not only within the walls of the Academy, cafes (he never ordered himself anything, trying to stop his stomach from growling as he watched you eat the cake, occasionally offering him a bite), or the park. That he would like to have you completely to himself and hide you from the eyes of other people who, in his opinion, were not worthy of an ounce of your attention.

He remembered snapping at Festus when he asked him if you were seeing anyone. As if Coriolanus' claim about you wasn't obvious enough to him.

Although you also remained blind to his obvious feelings, which Sejanus said were as visible as an approaching change in the weather in the Rocky Mountains. By the way, he wondered when Sejanus would forget those catchphrases from District 2. They were very tiring and boring to listen to.

But Snow decided to let you stay in the dark for a little longer and admire you in silence, from his place next to you as your best friend. He promised himself that when he won the Plinth Prize, he would conquer not only the world but you and your heart. After all, he couldn't imagine anyone else being his First Lady than you.

He knew that his fascination with you was gradually turning into an unhealthy obsession. But what else could he do when you took his breath away just by existing? And Coryo wasn't used to not having control over his emotions. But with you... you could do whatever you wanted with him. And he was terrified, both by the fact that you had such power over him and by the fact that you were completely unaware of it.

However, everything was going according to his plan. He stayed by your side, guarding you like a gardener's dog and waiting for the moment when he would finally be worthy of you and make you his. And you seemed to obediently dismiss every admirer.

Until the 10th Hunger Games came along.

And a certain district boy stole too much of your attention for Coriolanus' liking. After all, you were HIS. Even if you didn't know about it yet.

"Hello, petal." He whispers in your ear, walking up to you from behind.

Surprised, you choke on the champagne you drank in secret from your parents and other participants in the reaping party at the Academy. He smiles in amusement, gently patting your back and discreetly placing the glass of champagne on the table for you.

"Coriolanus Snow, someday I'll put a fucking bell around your neck like my mother's cats have." You say, coughing. He laughs softly, offering you his arm, which you take once you've recovered.

"I thought you considered it brutal?" He replies sarcastically, glancing at the dress you were in, which hugged your curves perfectly.

A white dress that Tigris made for you 'coincidentally' matched perfectly with the outfit he was currently wearing. He had never been more proud of his cousin than he was now.

"I'm surprised that you think you're on an equal footing with my cats. You're no match for them, Snow." He rolls his eyes at you, but he can't help but smirk a little at your laugh.

"We will see." You snorted at that. You notice Sejanus in the crowd talking to his parents.

"I'll go say hello." You say, nodding towards Sejanus. But before you can take a step towards him, Coryo's grip on you tightens. You give him a questioning look, focusing your gaze on him.

"Stay with me. You know I don't like talking to them all by myself. Especially with Arachne. Sejan will be joining us soon." You sigh, rolling your eyes at him, but you don't try to fight his grip or let go of his arm as he leads you towards the group of your classmates.

"I spoil you too much, Snow."

"Nonsense, you could do better." You laugh in amusement, and he smiles at the sound of that.

But his good mood and relaxed demeanour quickly turned into a stoic expression. You feel him tense slightly and straighten, as if preparing for a fight, when you approach your classmates.

"Snow and Y/L/N. As always, together. You could finally make up your mind, darling, and choose one of them instead of hanging around him and Plinth." Arachne greets you, as always, nicely, at which you laugh artificially.

"Why should I when I can have both?" You reply with a shrug, making some of them laugh. However, you are most pleased with Arachne's grimace and the small smile on Coryo's lips.

"Usually it's the district girls who act like whores." You feel Coryo tense next to you, his eyes turning a cold, icy shade as he stares at the girl in front of you. If looks could kill, Coryo would become a serial killer. However, he could certainly make someone feel insecure and intimidated.

"Usually inheritance hunters don't complete their education and end up marrying some rich fool at the earliest opportunity, even before they turn 18. And yet here you are, Arachnie. I think that makes us both surprised then." You reply before Coryo can react. Festus shakes his head and stares at the both of you in amusement as you sinisterly glare at each other.

"Ladies, why all these quarrels? We already know who Y/N will end up with."

"And who is it, Festus?"

"Me." You shake your head at that, amused. However, Coryo, standing next to you, doesn't share your humor. He pulls you slightly closer to him, giving you a fleeting glance before focusing on Festus.

"For now, she's not on your shoulder, Creed."

"Enjoy it while you can, Snow. We'll see how things go when we enrol in university." You see Coriolanus tighten his jaw at his remark. You squeeze his arm slightly tighter, making him shift his gaze to you. You smile as he relaxes slightly under your attention.

"You made it to the graduation, Festus. You shouldn't set higher expectations for yourself than that." Sejan's voice echoes behind you. You snorted in amusement and turned around in Coryo's embrace; somehow you managed to get out of them enough to wrap your arms around your friend. "Y/N. You look as beautiful as always. Arachne, who are you trying to fool with this white outfit?" You hide your face behind Coryo's shoulder, trying to hold back a burst of laughter.

You feel Sejanus wrapping his arm around you. Now, you are held by your two friends, and the one with the lighter hair is definitely unhappy about having to share you with Plinth, but you are not able to notice it since the reaping is finally starting.

A murmur of women's whispers echoed throughout the room as a very handsome man emerged from the crowd. You leaned forward slightly, taking a closer look at the tall, athletic, and chiselled man with tanned skin and bronze hair.

With just one look into his stunning sea-green eyes and after seeing the huge, charming smile he sent for the cameras, you knew that whoever got this man was going to be the winner. Because no tribute ever made as much money from sponsors as a sinfully hot man usually did.

And this one was a special sight for the eyes. The reaction of most of the female part of the room and the jealous and furious looks of the men at the reaction of their other halves confirmed your suspicions.

"This boy from 4 belongs to Miss Y/N Y/L/N."

You licked your lips, smiling wolfishly, and watched your tribute on the screen. You were so lucky.

"You damn lucky dog." Persephone whispers in your ear and slaps your shoulder playfully. You give her a half-smile and shrug as the cameramen spend a little more time showing your tribute.

"What can I say... maybe I'll only attract hot men from now on? I hope his muscles aren't just for good looks, because that would be a shame." She shakes her head at your words, holding back a laugh. You smile and involuntarily glance at Coriolanus.

He immediately looks away from you. His jaw is set, and his leg bounces slightly. Anyone else would think he was relaxed and calm. But you knew him too well to assume that.

He was already nervous the moment Clem took your seat, and you were forced to sit in the second row, away from him. Coriolanus doesn't like it. He would rather hold your hand, feel the warmth of your body close to yours, and smell the faint scent of your perfume than sneak glances over his shoulder to keep an eye on you.

Sometimes he knows he can be painfully obvious, but he thanks fate for at least being kind enough to keep you unaware of his feelings for you. He would have you. Just not yet. First, his tribute had to win the damn Hunger Games so he could win Plinth's prize. Then he could make his move without fear of you discovering his family's financial situation. Finally, snow lands on top. And he spent many sleepless nights imagining that he would land on top of you.

You catch his gaze, but you don't have time to analyse his attitude. After a while, Lucy Gray appears on the screen, and you see that your handsome guy will have some competition for the Capitol's favour.

And the possible competition with your best friend makes you feel very uncomfortable. So much so that you don't notice the hateful glare Coriolanus shot at your tribute as the operators once again showed off the likenesses of this year's tributes.

Finnick Odair. A new obstacle in his plan that he had to eliminate. And not just to win the Hunger Games...

You haven't spoken to Coryo since then. Which was an extremely strange phenomenon because you were usually attached to each other at the hip.

Although you had seen him briefly during classes and now, when most of the mentors had gathered around the cage at the zoo to find their tributes and give them something to eat or drink, he didn't even spare you a second glance as he was fully focused on Lucy Gray.

Something was wrong with him.

Especially after his little stunt at the train station and his conversation with Dr. Gaul. Because of which, now (and mainly because of Sejanus' statement), you stand nervously near the bars, looking for your tribute.

And you couldn't help but wonder what exactly the Hunger Games were for. The more you thought about it, the more you started to side with Sejanus.

The First Rebellion may have done you great harm, but was it any wonder that the people of the district rebelled? After all, if any of you were born outside the Capitol, you would probably do what they did. So what was the point of murdering 23 of the young unfortunates who had been singled out for slaughter?

“You seem lost.” A voice next to you pulls you from your thoughts. You turn around, seeing your tribute leaning against the bars and watching you carefully. If he was hot on TV, he looked gorgeous in real life. His cheekbones and jaws look like they had been carved with chisels by the best of the artists. And his eyes... you wonder how such men could be born and live in any district. "Unless you're looking for something. Or someone, if I may boldly assume."

"Y/N Y/L/N. Your mentor." You say, reaching your hand out towards him through the bars. He takes your hand, placing a kiss on the back of it. You can't help but notice how soft his lips are against your skin. You blush slightly, and you can almost feel Flickerman's eyes and cameras behind you.

"I figured it out. Fate must be a little kind to me after all. Giving me the most beautiful of mentors as my guardian angel."

"You'll be able to say that when you win the Hunger Games." You reply, taking your hand from his and pulling food and drink out of your bag for him.

"When?" He asks, taking the cookie from you and immediately biting into it. That view is squeezing you with sadness, seeing how hungry he is. Despite everything, he still carries himself with grace and is extremely charming. You hope that the cameras will show him often. "How can you be so sure?"

"You are handsome. You attract women's attention. If you maintain that charming attitude of yours, you will probably earn quite a lot of money with those pretty eyes and smile. At least enough to not die of hunger or dehydration in the arena." You reply, searching for something else in your bag.

"Under different circumstances, I would be grateful for so many compliments, angel." You look up, meeting his gaze. And something inside you tells you that, in fact, if the circumstances were different, you would be talking about something completely different right now... or doing something much more enjoyable.

"When you win, who knows? Once a tribute stayed in the Capitol after winning." You say, handing him your cousin's old white sweater that he found in the closet.

"Sorry, honey, but I doubt I'd want to stay in the Capitol. Even for such a nice view." He says this, unabashedly taking off the slightly torn and dirty shirt he was wearing.

He soaks it in the water you gave him and rinses himself off, putting on a show for the entire Capitol audience to watch thanks to the cameras trained on him and the people in the zoo. You lick your lips, trying not to openly stare at the muscles on his chest and act rude (or, in this case, like a horny teenager).

"You're behind bars." You clear your throat, reminding him that there are probably no good views from the cage. You took the courage to look him in the eyes again only after he got dressed.

"And I look at a beautiful girl, what more could I want?"

You laugh loudly and honestly at this. He joins you, and the other mentors and the rest of the tributes look at you like you're crazy. You're too busy looking at the handsome man in front of you to notice Coryo giving him a dagger glare and clenching her fists in anger.

But Lucy Gray does it.

And she perfectly recognises jealousy in the eyes of others. Especially pure anger and the beginnings of forming a plan for revenge. After all, that's how she ended up here.

The day before reaping, Mayfair Lipp had a similar look in her eyes.

Which makes her come to the conclusion that maybe her mentor isn't as good a person as she initially assumed.

"Excuse me for a moment." Snow mutters to her as he walks towards the two of you, leaving her to the children who came to look at her dress.

You and Finnick chat casually about things completely unrelated to Games. Coriolanus notices that the boy from the district reached through the bars for your hand, showing you different lines on it, probably doing some trick or foretelling stupid things.

But what added fuel to Snow's anger was the fact that, in addition to the district's underdog daring to touch you, he also made your face blush. Something Coriolanus has never managed to do.

"Y/N." He says, interrupting the conversation between the two of you. Seeing that he is watching you, you move away from the boy, calming down his anger a little. "We have to get back to the Academy. We have another class soon."

"Oh. Yes." you say, the disappointment is very audible in your voice, which makes him even more angry and jealous.

Why on earth would this piece of trash from the district deserve your attention, or maybe even affection, when Coriolanus was standing right next to you?

"I'll be back again. If you need anything, I'll get it for you." You say, giving a soft smile to your tribute. Coryo almost growls in anger, knowing full well that this worm doesn't deserve your kindness.

"Everything's fine, angel. Don't worry too much." He replies with his charming smirk, making Coryo want to impale his head through the metal wires of his cage.

He wraps his hand around your waist and catches your gaze as he nods towards the exit of the zoo. Taking advantage of your moment of distraction as you watch Arachne torment her tribute, Coriolanus gives your tribute a cold look and squeezes your waist a little tighter. Odair looks at him impassively, but the slight tightening of his jaw tells Snow that the boy got the hint.

No matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to touch you like Coryo was doing right now.

Coryo shouldn't be concerned about a boy from the district, especially one who competed in the Hunger Games, but he couldn't just let that bastard flirt with HIS girl.

Your terrified gasp brings him out of his thoughts. He automatically places his hands on your shoulders, pulling you closer to him and looking around for whatever scared you. And she sees Arachne's tribute grab her by the neck and pull her towards her, holding a broken bottle in her other hand.

He feels you try to break free from his grip, but instead of letting you go and running towards Arachne and her tribute, he spins you around and presses your face into his chest just as Arachne's neck pierces the glass of the bottle.

He feels you tremble in his arms, hearing the screams and shots of the Peacekeepers, who open fire too late and kill the crazy girl from the district.

"You're safe. Nothing will happen to you. Not with me." He whispers to you as he feels your tears soak his shirt, and he falls even more in love with you, seeing you cry even for a bitch like Arachne.

He places a kiss on the top of your head and leads you out of the zoo and to your car. He glances briefly at Lucy Gray to make sure they didn't shoot her by accident. He angrily accepts that your tribute is also unharmed.

He feels a little better, though, when he sees how your tribute shoots a jealous, angry glare at him, holding you close to his chest. And Coriolanus can't help but wink arrogantly at him.

"Focus." You tell the tribute in front of you as you discuss plans to build the Arena with him. Finnick, however, prefers to play with the bracelet on your wrist.

"Rose quartz. You know you don't get things like that from just anyone?" He asks, examining the stone. You remove your wrist from his grasp and raise a questioning eyebrow at him.

"My friend gave me this."

"That creepy blonde? Adorable. If he took his eyes off you for more than 5 seconds."

You roll your eyes at him and turn your gaze away from him to glance at Coryo. He's talking to, or rather listening to, Lucy Gray as he stares blankly at the pen and paper in front of him. He senses your gaze and turns around. You give him a soft smile, and he nods at you and goes back to listening to his tribute.

"Coryo doesn't like being alone among people he doesn't trust or know. And after yesterday, he's… more caring. It's natural."

"And does this Coryo of yours often give you old bracelets with a stone symbolising love?" You frown, examining the bracelet he gave you for your 18th birthday.

"It belonged to his mother. He probably thought it was pretty and that's why he gave it to me. It does not mean anything." You explain to him, at which he just shakes his head in disbelief, apparently not trusting in the good intentions of your friend. You want to go back to discussing your arena survival plan with him, but he won't let you say a word.

"Hmm... if I hadn't been chosen in the reaping and we had met under different circumstances, and if I were rich, I would have given you a necklace with pearls and pieces of angelite."

"Why?" You ask curiously, hoping that once he says what he wants, you two will go back to discussing plans. But you wonder how the hell he knows the meaning of the stones.

"Pearls are a symbol of wisdom, calmness, integrity, and serenity. They also remind me of the ocean. How old fishermen told us stories about beautiful sirens who attracted them by singing."

"Like Lucy Gray?" You ask with a smirk, thinking he might like the female tribute.

"I was thinking of another beauty." He says his fingertips are brushing against yours as much as the cuffs on his wrists would allow.

You blush when he flirts with you. You can't say that it bothers you or that you are indifferent. After all, he was very handsome. You don't see Coryo frown, staring daggers at the place where your hands lightly brush against each other.

"What about angelite? Why it?"

"It's a kind of peaceful crystal. Some believe that it helps to bring a guardian angel closer to you. After being chosen in the reaping... I wasn't quite at peace. And then I looked at you, and somehow..." He pauses, staring at your hands. You grab his hands tight, making his sea-green eyes look back into yours in surprise at your sudden gesture.

"I promise I will do everything in my power to make you survive this. You don't have to trust me, but trust in this."

"Because you want the prize?" He asks suspiciously, and you shake your head with a slight chuckle. You're not surprised that he's distrustful. After all, most mentors had this in mind. The prize. Not a human life that was in their hands.

"Because I can't stand the thought of someone like you dying in the arena." You admit it. You unconsciously lean into each other as you stroke your fingers over the back of his hand, drawing little patterns on it.

"Someone like me? Underdog from the district?"

"A handsome man with a good heart. Do not look at me like this. I saw you sharing water and food with that sick little girl—Dill and the other one... Wovey I think? You are a good man, Finncik Odair." You say with confidence.

His eyes light up for a moment, and for the first time, you see his real, unforced, warm smile. He didn't play the charming boy. Not this time.

"I guess that makes two of us, angel. I saw someone giving her medicine last night and extra food. I doubt it was their mentors."

"I have no idea what you are talking about." You both laugh at your answer. And somehow you can't help but blush—the flutter in your stomach that's caused by the way he looks at you and that damn beautiful, genuine smile—that's nothing compared to his charming façade.

Someone's burning gaze focused on you, which you feel on your temple, makes you let go of the tribute's hand, embarrassed. You look around discreetly, noticing Coryo's cold gaze that makes you shiver. He's never looked at you like that... at least not in your direction. It takes you a few seconds to realise that his gaze isn't on you at all, but on the man sitting across from you.

"Can you get me a trident? And some nets?"

"Trident?" You ask distractedly, making a note of his request anyway.

"To the arena. To put on a show and collect more donations." You nod, your thoughts fully returning to Finnick. You tell yourself that you're making something up. After all, Coryo is just your friend.

"I'll see what I can do. You also need to think about what you will do on tomorrow's TV appearance." You remind him, writing down in your notebook the things you should provide him with before he goes on air. Maybe a suit? You're sure he'd look drop-dead handsome in it on stage.

"I have already got some idea. You'll probably like it." He replies with an arrogant smirk, causing you to giggle, which, for some strange reason, you're unable to hold back. His smirk widens.

"Y/N. Can I take you away for a moment?" Coryo's voice and the fact that he's right behind you surprise you. You didn't notice him sneaking up until he spoke. You wonder how many times he has managed to do this without your knowledge.

"Go, angel. I'll see you tomorrow at the arena." Finnick says, giving you another of his trademark smirks. You nod to him and accept Coryo's hand as he helps you up. He takes your bag from you, and you both walk out.

You go with him as his emotional support to Dr. Gaul's laboratory. He tells you enthusiastically about his new ideas for the Hunger Games and how the woman was interested in them, but you only half-listen, your thoughts still with Finnick. And Coriolanus doesn't like it that you so brazenly ignore what he says.

"You two are rather close." He says, getting your attention. You raise a questioning eyebrow at him, not understanding who he was talking about. "You and your tribute."

"We are. It's my job to take care of him."

"You do it rather willingly and with a smile on your face." He remarks with a strange tone of voice. You stop and frown at him, not understanding what his problem is.

"Are you suggesting something?"

"No. No. Not at all. I'm just warning you. People are talking."

"They always talk." You snap at him, furious that he's playing that card. He lectures you as if you were a little child and did something wrong. Besides, who cared? You could flirt with anyone you wanted.

"Y/N. He's just a district boy. I don't want your reputation to suffer just because… you see him as a human being."

"Are you serious? He IS a human being. Like each one of them." You say, angry at him for even saying such a thing.

"You sound like Sejanus." He says it coldly, giving you an unreadable look. You don't know what he's thinking, but you know by the way his jaw is set and his hand is nervously playing with the strap of his bag that it's not good. And you wonder. Because Sejan is your friend after all. And he was also a district boy.

"Maybe because he's right." You respond to his remark by crossing your arms and staring at him defiantly, tilting your chin slightly upward.

"Are you really going to let some district scumbag ruin your career and future? Everything you've worked for so far? They hate us, Y/N. Each one of them. Behind that charming smile of his, there is a devil who gossips about you and laughs at your naivety behind your back."

"They are not monsters, Coriolanus."

The use of his full name makes him flinch. You see it and immediately regret not using his diminutive, but that's okay. You were incredibly frustrated and angry that he thought the way Dr. Gaul and the rest of the rich snobs of Panem did. That he didn't see these people as... people. People like you were.

"They killed my father, and because of the rebellion 10 years ago, my mother and sister, whom I never got to know, are dead, and they might have been alive if those district rats hadn't turned the Capitol into a battlefield. You, Tigris, and my grandmother are all I have left. And I won't let anything happen to you or anyone take you away from me." He bursts out, keeping his voice cool, but you can clearly see the storm of emotions in his icy eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere, Coryo. The rebellion is over. We are safe. But they are not." You decide to back out of the argument with him.

"They don't deserve to be safe. Not after what they did to us, petal."

You don't say anything at his words. You just sigh and go to hug him.

He relaxes a little in your arms, wrapping himself around you just as tightly as you wrap around him. You are enveloped in his warmth and the delicate scent wafting from the rose he had pinned to his red jacket.

You know how Coryo suffered and how he sought an outlet for his pain. And you can't be surprised that he blamed the people of the district for his family's fate. That he hated them... but you didn't know how deep that hatred had grown inside him.

And how much it had grown the moment he found out from Lucy Gray that you had promised to make sure Odair won.

When he found out you chose that district boy above him in The Hunger Games, he fully understood what Dr. Gaul wanted him to say when she asked him about the meaning of the games.

Now he had to make sure that HE would become THE VICTOR. And not the underdog from 4 who tried to steal HIS woman.

"I hope I haven't caused you any trouble?" Finnick asks with that smile of his that makes you weak in the knees as you both walk around the arena.

You blush slightly, remembering last night.

"Here. Put this somewhere and change it when we get back from the arena. Then you two will be on TV." You tell him, handing him a bag of clothes through the bars. It is midnight. You shouldn't be here, and you might as well have given it to him in the morning, but... something pulled you to him. "If you are as charming as usual, you will win the hearts of the audience." You say, not knowing that he only cares about ONE heart.

"You're too good, angel. But I have something for you too." he says that and hands you a small bundle. You frown at him.

"I… I shouldn't…" You say, surprised, but he pushes the bundle into your hands anyway.

You look at him in a daze for a moment and unwrap the fabric. You gasp when you see the necklace. It is an ordinary black leather strap with a silver pendant with a fish that swallows its tail, thus creating a circle shape. There was a tiny pearl inside.

"If I were a rich man, I would give you something else... as a souvenir. But I'm not... but I really wanted for you to have something that will remind you of me. Please say something, or I might start talking nonsense that we'll both regret later and..."

You silence him by leaning in and kissing him through the bars. It's a gentle kiss, as tender as the tiny passage between the bars allows, but somehow he manages to grab your hand and cup your cheek carefully, brushing your skin with his thumb.

You feel tears welling up as you think about what it might have been like in another life, where there were no divisions into better and worse districts and the Hunger Games would never have existed... but this small moment stolen in the night between you two will have to be enough. That gentle brushing of your lips.

"No. Not at all. Do you already know what you're going to do on TV?" You ask, changing the subject, trying to keep from blushing as the two of you walk around the arena while you make mental notes of the best places to escape.

"Yes. I will recite a poem. Or, rather, a song. I will not compete with our dear Lucy Gray, and I will not sing. Want to hear?"

"Sure." You reply with a shrug, completely unprepared for what he had in store.

He clears his throat. He catches your eye and begins with a tone of voice so velvety and pleasant to the ear that it's impossible for you to perceive anything other than him. And certainly not the way your blonde friend was staring daggers at you with clenched fists, ignoring the scared look Lucy Gray was throwing his way.

"We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring You know I didn't want to have to haunt you But what a ghostly scene You wear the same jewels that I gave you As you bury me I didn't have it in myself to go with grace 'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet."

You shiver as he finishes. He was only a small step away from you as he inched closer with each line he spoke, never taking his eyes off you. You are speechless. All you can do is look him in the eyes, watching as he gently brushes away your hair from your eyes.

"It's... it's beautiful. Did you write it?" You ask, snapping out of your daze.

"No. No, I don't. I believe this is 'My tears richochet' by Taylor Swift."

"Taylor Swift?" You repeat it stupidly, swallowing and trying to calm your rapidly beating heart that aches with the desire to kiss him. You know you can't. Not in the light of day. Never in plain sight. And it hurt you that you wanted a man who could never be yours.

"In another life, I would be a London boy." You laugh with him about it. Suddenly he looks around seriously, and when he sees that Coriolanus is the only one watching you, he takes a step towards you and gently strokes your cheek with his thumb. "You're... I didn't expect anyone in the Capitol to have a heart. And certainly not as pure as yours, my sweet angel."

You shiver, unable to move away from him.

He leans down and steals you a quick but more passionate kiss than the first you two had shared under the cover of the night. His hand tangles in the hair at the back of your head as he opens your mouth with his tongue, swallowing your moan. Common sense screams at you to step away, but you can't. You cup his cheeks in your hands, pulling him closer to you, stealing another moment with him as he pushes you against a pillar, hiding you from anyone's view.

Before anyone can notice that you two have disappaired, there's a loud bang in the arena. You scream as you feel a warm gust of air make you fall onto your back. The combined scream of both Coryo and Finnick's calling your name and the pounding of your head is the last thing you hear and feel before you pass out.

Consciousness comes back to you very slowly. At first, you think you're dead, but the ringing in your ears and headache wouldn't be symptoms of a dead person on the other side.

That's why you open your eyes slowly and very reluctantly.

You hiss as the light from the hospital lamp hits your eyes. You cover them with your hand when suddenly you feel another one on yours.

"Everything's fine, petal. You are safe with me. Move slowly, take your time."

"Coryo?" You ask, pushing both your and his hands away from your eyes as you narrow them at him. You sigh with relief and hug the blonde, who is also in a hospital gown. You managed to notice a few scratches on his face before you cuddled up to him shakily.

"Shh... it's okay, my petal. Your parents were here. They waited through the entire surgery, and when the doctor told them you were stable, they went home to get clothes for you. They should be back here soon. Together with Tgiris and Sejanus."

"Surgery?" You ask in surprise, only now feeling the grip of the bandages on your head.

"They put a few stitches on your head. Fortunately, it wasn't as deep a wound as we thought it was. You scared me. And the others." He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he wraps his arms tighter around you... like a snake.

"The arena... Finnick. Is he alive? What happened? Where is Finnick?" You panicked, moving away from him and ignoring his more affectionate than usual gestures. All you can think about is a district boy that you have grown to... to love in these few days when you got a chance to know him.

You don't see the anger rising in Coriolanus's eyes, nor do you recognise his fake tone as he pretends to be concerned. You're more concerned, scared, and distraught that you don't feel the weight of Finnick's necklace around your neck.

"He is dead. I'm sorry for your tribute, my petal." He says, slowly stroking your bare arms.

From the side, it looked like he wanted to comfort you, but he was only doing it because he wanted to feel your skin under his fingertips. Enjoy his reward. As well as that snow lands on top.

"What?" You ask in shock, not feeling his touch at all. Your world stopped. As if it were dying. You don't feel anything. Nothing at all.

"There was an attack of rebels. He didn't survive." He repeats it more emphatically, watching you carefully.

"No... no..." You shake your head, feeling tears welling up in your eyes. Tears that you don't even try to hold back. Just as your whole body trembles.

"It's not your fault, honey. You did an excellent job as a mentor. It could have happened to anyone."

"You do not understand! This isn't about stupid games! This is about him! About human life! How can you be so selfish and myopic?!”

You shout angrily, slapping your hands against his chest. Your tears are blurring any vision; you're still weak from the surgery, so when you get tired, he pulls you into his arms and presses your head to his chest, rubbing your back as you cry into him.

Into a man who took the opportunity to get rid of the inconvenience of your tribute. Along with the necklace he gave you. Coriolanus was furious when he saw it on your neck as he carried you out after pushing Odair right into the spot where, a second later, a large piece of debris fell from the ceiling.

Once again, Coriolanus' perceptiveness worked to his advantage.

And now you were his. Only his. He made sure there were no traces of Finnick Odair left. After all, his First Lady couldn't be sullied by a district boy.

"Don't cry over him. We are all we need anyway, my little petal." He whispers against your skin as he kisses away your tears.

You're too busy mourning your tribute and too drugged to do anything. So he uses this to his advantage and fucks your face with kisses before finally leaning in to taste your lips.

He moans into your mouth, not caring about the slightly salty taste of your tears, and gently wraps his hand around your neck. You mumble something into his mouth, pressing your hand against his chest to push him away.

But he doesn't give up. He sits you on his lap and places kisses on your neck. You gasp, clinging to him. He rests his forehead against yours and kisses you once again. He lifts your hands and makes you tangle them in his hair. His other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you in until your chests are pressed together.

He ignores Lucy Gray's singing echoing through the private room in the hospital your parents bought for you to get better and holds you close to his chest, pressing tender kisses to your cheeks, lips, nose, forehead, and neck—everywhere his greedy, eager mouth can reach.

You can't move. Because of the drugs they drugged you with, so you can't feel pain, or because you don't want to move, you don't know yet. In some strange way, the feeling of closeness comforts you, and your stupid brain and heart try to trick you into thinking it's right. After all, Coryo saved you, and he always saved you. He was always there for you. Always close to you. Unconsciously, you start kissing him back. He moans contentedly, rubbing himself against you.

He refrains from doing anything more and pushes you off of him, keeping your head on his shoulder and his arms around you as he places small kisses on your temple and tenderly, occasionally reaching up to kiss your lips as the painkiller drip he unscrews a little makes you melt and surrender completely to him.

He holds you as you fall asleep in his arms, thinking about how he can make sure his songbird wins. He reduced her competition anyway by hastening Odair's death, but he must be sure that he wins Plinth's prize so he can finally claim you fully for himself. He wouldn't endure another district boy near you.

Coriolanus knew that hope was dangerous. Love was fatal and destructive if you didn't control the one you cared for. And jealousy... jealousy brought out people's primal, animal instincts.

Just like the Hunger Games.

He looks at your sleeping, peaceful form, and he presses a kiss on your lips. He smiles, seeing how cuddled up to him you were and how you were in need of his warmth and touch, of the security he provided and will always provide for you. You were worth every sin. His petal. His little angel. His future First Lady and mother of his children. He will adore you. You'd forget about this district underdog once he won; he was sure of it.

After all, he was the only victor Panem could have.

Okay another stupid Waking up in PJO thought because I want validation and my TikTok’s aren’t doing well

You wanna know when Percy realized he had feelings for you?

Percy’s never really been the type of person to have friends. He thinks he might have, if he was a bit smarter and he knew the right things to say. He’s friendly enough with the other boys, but it’s not friendship, not really.

Then he meets Grover, and the world feels a little brighter. Like the bleak gray fog he’s been trudging through has finally begun to lift, and it’s still dark and wet and gray, but there’s some sunshine now too.

Then he gets attacked by hit math teacher, and he feels like the few people he could trust are gone from him. But at least he has his mom.

A boy with hooves for feet. I Minotaur. A camera ripped to shreds. A boy with no mother. An orphan.

He’s pretty sure he’s dead. He’s never been the type to win in anything, and when he finally makes it out of the darkness, he sees someone so beautiful he forgets how to breathe. You’re feeding him something, it tastes like chocolate chips. And you promise that his mom is okay, she’s just somewhere else right now, and that you’ll help him find her.

That he’s not alone.

And when he wakes up from the dream, everyone seems to want something from him. Answers or talent or friendship or a quest.

Even his father, who could never bother to send a lousy child support check, wants him to clear his name.

Everyone wants something from him.

Except for you.

You don’t want anything from him when you sit across from him at his empty table. “You know you could have told me you were old seaweeds kid.” and then you go on some long tirade about how the gods want you to risk your life but they won’t even indulge you in a little cola.

You’ve got tons of friends, the fact that even Clarisse softens around you is sign enough that you’re well liked. You don’t need his friendship. And from the sounds of it you’ve been on plenty of quests, earning your glory, the pride and joy of your father. Your father, Hades, a great legacy in his own right.

You don’t need him for anything.

So the fact that you’re here right now, trying to make him feel better, is just because you saw someone who felt alone and extended your hand in kindness.

And Percy knows right then and there that even if all the stories about Hades are true, that he’s the greatest villain of this era, and you’re his favorite pawn, that he’ll tie his ship to your dock.

“If you’re going to die might as well go down having Faygo right?”

You scoff. “Faygo? You’ve got awful taste Percy Jackson.”

And that is the beginning of the end.

Hello! My current hyper-fixation and maladaptive daydreaming scenarios center around Epic the Musical, created by the amazing Jorge Rivera-Herrans!

However, because I have a female main character bias, I tend to imagine the songs as if they were sung by best girl Penelope.

Thankfully, two artists have went ahead and drew this into reality! @vioofc and @too-much-flynnolium (please check out their art, it is really good!)

Inspired by their works of perfection, I have went ahead and wrote the first of many vignettes based on this AU! There is also a version on Ao3, if you prefer that platform over Tumblr:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59221033

More will be coming soon, so be on the lookout for that if you enjoy this kind of thing!

Some important notes before you begin reading:

In this AU, Ares and Artemis have worked together over the years to train a bunch of Greek women and make them formidable warriors. After Ares break his promise to Hera to support the Greeks during the Trojan war, he offers his favorite student and her closest sisters-in-arms to fight in the war (as Hera is in favor of women gaining more power and influence in the Greek world).

This is what leads to Penelope being forced to fight in the war. Odysseus and the men of Ithaca are not allowed to take the places of these women, as Athena (on Hera's orders) orders him to stay in Ithaca.

Telemachus is also a girl in this AU, because I say so!

Epic! Swap AU #1 - The King of Ithaca

Odysseus tries to cope with single handedly running his kingdom and raising his daughter without his loving Penelope by his side. Unfortunately, the first of his suitors have made themselves at home in his palace… 

“Odysseus.” 

Odysseus did not respond to the call of his name. He did not want to leave his designated seat: the left side of the klines. It was picked out in collaboration with his wife upon their first week of marriage, with Penelope declaring that the right side belonged to her. Odysseus remembered laughing, saying that it made sense, “considering you are always right”. 

The klines was placed in the side-corner of their bedroom balcony, with a perfect view of Ithaca’s beaches on one side and the villages of the common folk on the other. Penelope always loved this spot, for if she wanted she could see the sky kiss the ocean on one side, or the hustle and bustle of her people, satisfied and content with their lives, on the other. 

He had a ritual for mornings. Every sunrise for the past 12 years, from the moment he wakes the King of Ithaca will spend a few minutes staring at the beaches surrounding his Kingdom; it was not long, but the minutes always lingered with a heavy sense of despair. 

It’s been so long since Odysseus last saw his wife lounging in this seat, beckoning him to join her in the morning whilst the kingdom was in a state of loving calm and peace. 

“Ody…” 

Odysseus flinched, knowing the other only called him by that name when he was concerned. 

Finally turning to look at his visitor, Odysseus saw Eurylochus leaned against the doorframe of his bedroom balcony. His best friend, his brother, was watching him with a sad look in his eyes. 

“They aren’t coming back-”

“You don’t know that.” Odysseus yelled out sternly. Though he immediately regretted it when he saw Eurylochus’ shoulders slump as let out a heavy sigh. 

“Eury… I-I’m sorry-” 

“It’s okay, Ody,” Eurylochus said with a small but sad smile. “I know.” 

Odysseus wanted to kick himself. After all, he and Eurylochus were stuck in the same horrible situation. 

After all, both men were in a state of longing. Odysseus longed from the moment he first awoke alone in his big, empty bed. Eury, who too woke in a lonely bedroom, longed in the exact same way. 

Both men longed for the return of their wives: Queen Penelope of Ithaca and her best friend and second in command, Ctimene.  

It had been 12 years since the God Ares ordered his favored student, Penelope, and her sisters-in-arms (trained by the God of War and Goddess of the Hunt, Artemis) to Troy on his behalf, all to “make up” with Hera after first siding with the Trojans on Aphrodite’s request. 

Odysseus remembered how he pleaded, begging to fight in his wife’s place, pride be damned! Especially since it had only been months since Penelope had given birth to their beautiful baby girl. Unfortunately, not even the King’s friendship with Athena could have spared his wife of her mentor’s decree; nor could it spare the many other women trained in the art of bloody war. 

It took 10 years for the war to end; Helen was reunited with Menelaus and the royalty of Troy were killed off to the last drop of blood. Rumors circulated within the Greek world that Penelope had a great hand to play in their victory, but the specificities were never clarified. 

The people of Ithaca could never forget the look of pure joy in their King’s eyes upon first hearing the news. However, whilst they thought their King’s happiness was because of his wife’s cunning and battle prowess being praised by all who could speak, those closest to Odysseus knew the truth. 

Odysseus was ecstatic that his wife was finally coming home. 

Penelope would once again be inside his arms, her warmth and scent no longer reduced to a distant memory. The people of Ithaca would once again have their queen, and Telemachas could finally meet the mother she had heard so many wonderful stories about. 

That’s how things should have been by now; and yet, 2 years after the war ended, the wives and daughters of Ithaca had still not returned. 

Presumed to now be widowers, the husbands and fathers of Ithaca reacted in very different ways. Many remarried, desperate to once again have their homes filled with the comfort of a wife and care of a mother. The rest could not bear the thought of remarriage, taking up vows of celibacy in honor of their fallen wives and praying to the Gods that their love alone would be good enough for their children. 

The one thing they all had in common: they knew their wives to be dead. 

This was where Odyesseus differed from them all. 

His people, Eurylochus, and now even Polites had tried telling him how likely it was that Penelope perished at sea. They reminded him that as the King of Ithaca, it was his duty to find a new Queen that could help rule and lead their Kingdom to prosperity. This was the standard procedure for Royalty in Greece.

But Odysseus was never one to follow the standard procedure. 

“Some of our… visitors… are making themselves at home in the throne room.” Eurylochus reminded Odysseus of the very thing he was trying to avoid. “They’re asking when you’ll go to see them.” 

Odysseus couldn’t mask his frustration. 

2 years. That’s all those selfish dogs had given him to “mourn” for the love of his life, for the mother Telemachas never had the chance to know. 

And now that the two years were up, they expected him to move on. 

“Already?” Odysseus commented as he rose from his seat, almost impressed with his “guests” desperation. “Helios hasn’t even placed the sun in its morning spot.”

“C’mon, you and I know human nature better than anyone.” Eurylochus scoffed, looking down to see the Palace’s yards beginning to pack with various women and their guards. “Who would ever resist the chance to obtain more power?” 

~

Odysseus, now wearing his royal chiton, walked down the halls of his palace with his head held high. Eurylochus walked by his side, hand strategically placed near the handle of his broadsword in order to quickly protect his King from strangers with ill intent. 

Eurylochus tried to lead Odysseus away from the hall of bedchambers, but the King stubbornly stopping in front of a familiar door forced both men to stop in their tracks. 

“Ody!” Eurylochus whispered-yelled through his teeth, obviously stressed beyond all doubt. 

“One second.” Odysseus had already pulled out a key he trusted only to himself, quietly unlocking the door. “I just want to check on her.” 

Odysseus could feel Eurylochus’ glare, but he knew his brother was not too bothered by his actions. After all, his most proud and precious achievement in life slept peacefully behind the once locked door. 

Telemachas’ chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm. The princess was curled up in the middle of her bed, smiling in what must have been a pleasant dream. Laying right beside her was Argos, who had awoken the second she saw someone trying to enter her owner’s room. The dog immediately returned to sleep though when she saw it was only her past owner checking in on his pup. 

For a second, Odysseus forgot about the devastating cataclysm that was his life. 

He forgot that Athena was angry at him for allowing his wife to aid the Goddess’ rival brother, despite them both not having a choice. He forgot about the low morale his kingdom now felt, having lost their daughters, sisters, wives, and mothers. He forgot the anxiety he felt at the thought of betraying Penelope by marrying another far less worthy of her title as Queen of Ithaca. 

In that second, he even managed to forget that Penelope was no longer by his side; for a younger, less turmoiled version of her slept so happily within the safe haven of her room. 

A sudden mirthless chuckle, a depressing one, roused Odysseus from his thoughts. 

“Sometimes I wonder what mine and Ctimene’s would have looked like…” 

Odysseus felt his heart twist in pain at those words. He remembered how excited his sister was at the prospect of a child, especially after having met her niece. Eurylochus spoke to him in private about how excited he was to soon be a father and give Telemachas a friend. 

Imagine that: both couples laughing as they watched Polites and Circe play with the children, basking in the warm sun and ocean breeze of a peaceful summer’s day. 

So much they could have had, if not for the will of the Gods. 

“Eurylochus-”

“We really need to go.” Eury’s frown was quick to disappear. “I don’t think they’ll appreciate waiting any longer.” 

Though he could hide the sorrow on his lips, Eurylochus could not mask the despair in his eyes. However, even if Odysseus wanted to stay and probe, all to better comfort his friend, he knew that Eurylochus was right. 

If he wanted to keep the piece in his palace, he didn’t have a moment to lose. 

~

Odysseus and Eurylochus knew the throne room was busy due to the various voices coming from behind the closed doors. 

“What’s the hold up!?”

“We’ve been waiting for two hours!” 

“Why can’t we find the King ourselves?!” 

They all sounded feminine. And very annoyed. 

“Ladies, please!” Polites’ muffled voice sounded from the other side of the doors. “The King will arrive in just a moment! So, in the meantime, why don’t we all conduct ourselves in a polite, orderly fashion?” 

Another chorus of exasperated groans; if there were any words spoken then they were undecipherable due to the sheer loudness of the crowd. 

Odysseus saw Eurylochus toss him a look, one that had “I told you so” written all over it. 

Ody let out a deep breath, praying to the Gods above that he looked much more confident than he felt. With a nod to the other, Eurylochus took the hint and made his way to the double doors of the throne room. 

He threw the doors open, attracting the attention of every guest within the throne room, welcome or otherwise.

Eurylochus’ booming voice could be heard from every corner of the large room:

“Presenting the King of Ithaca, Odysseus!” 

Everyone within the throne room, friend, suitor, or guard, either kneeled or bowed at the sight of the King of Ithaca. 

Odysseus paid them no mind; he stared straight ahead at nothing in particular as he walked to his throne. He sat in the left royal seat, despite royal customs declaring he sit in the right. The right seat belonged to Penelope, and Penelope only. 

He would make sure every suitor in his palace remembered this. 

He took note of the amount of women littering his throne room, 32 in total. So far. 

Odysseus knew he had to find a way to delay this “inevitable” remarriage. If not for his fidelity and loyalty to Penelope, then for the sake of his daughter. Who knows what would happen to her if he remarries, for what Queen would allow the daughter of her predecessor to take the throne? 

No, he needed to be smart and tactical about this. Telemachas was already 12, well on her way to 13. All he had to do was keep his suitors at bay for 8 more years, then the princess would be allowed to ascend to the throne without any complaints from his adversaries. 

He could do this. He will find a way. For himself. For Telemachas. For Penelope. 

~

Odysseus didn’t notice the look one suitor in particular gave him from the moment he walked into the throne room. 

She couldn’t look away from his body; his tanned, lean, toned body. Oh, how his chiton stuck to his waist and showed off his fit figure. The way the fabric couldn’t cover his abs at a certain angle. The way one of his pecs was in full view, teasing the wonderfully flat mound of flesh that was begging to be bitten. 

He was beautiful. 

He was perfect. 

He was hers. 

Based on rumors circulating around the palace, it appeared that he planned to make his remarriage a difficult process for his suitors. 

That was fine.

She can be patient. No matter how long it took, she’d find a way to force him to accept her. After all, she was blessed by Zeus himself. Anything she wanted would belong to her.  

Ithaca. The Right Throne. Odysseus.

One day, all of it will bear her name. 

Calypso.

I NEED YOUR HELP TO SPREAD THIS

This blog in the photo accompaninstuo91 does not have a proper blog. When you click on their blog, an image pops up asking you if you're 18 and if you say yes or no, it directs you to a virus/porn site that isnt on tumblr

The bots are evolving to actively redirect you/ give viruses to you

Please reblog this so you dont fall victim. Do not click follow or try to go onto their blog, instead the only way to report them is to click the little three dots and click report

@staff please stop shit like this

gojo vs sukuna live reaction 😆

It's been a rough day for me, I figure it may be a rough day for y'all. Please enjoy this picture of my idiot cats.

Masterlist

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! /Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! /

 Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! /

Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here ! / Part 17 Here! / 

Part 18 Here! / Part 19 Here! / Part 20 here! / Part 21 Here! / Part 22 Here! / 

Part 23 Here! / Part 24 Here! / Part 25 Here! / Part 26 Here! / Part 27 Here! / 

Part 28 Here!  / Part 29 Here! / Part 30 Here! / Part 31 Here!/ Part 32 Here! / Part 33 Here / Part 34 Here!

Legend:

{Bold and Underlined = Published and linked },

{Regular text =Coming Soon}