A Crown of Golden Leaves: A Percy Jackson Fanfiction

Capvt XVI: The Way of the Gods

Capvt XVI:The Way of the Gods

THE first few lessons are always the hardest ones; they are the ones where everyone just .  . gives up: they were the testing point, not because it was hard, exactly, but because it was unfamiliar. And anything unfamiliar meant it was difficult, which is why most people give up, because they want it to come quick and easy.

And nothing's ever easy or quick; or, at least, not the stuff that mean something.

However, all things become familiar with time and practice. Learning is a curious process. The level of difficulty grows higher after every lesson, and yet, at the same time . . . it grows easier too. You can understand the material, and in some ways, it is easier. You learn the teacher's style.

And when you master it, you realize all that labor meant you did something meaningful; and you realize, you can do anything yourself. You don't need other people to tell you what to do.

Curious indeed.

~...~

Annabeth hauled herself over the last ledge, her breathing coming out in ragged gasps. Her arms felt numb and there was an awful stich that burned in her side, but she had made it. She had made it to the roof of the armary, despite her fear of heights. 

"Well done," Percy said, smiling at her as he pulled himself onto the roof as well. She wondered how he did it so easily even though he was still recovering from his injuries; perhaps he was superhuman or something? Shaking the errant thought from her mind, she flopped down against the flat roof, crossing one arm over her eye. "You're getting better." 

"Doesn't feel like it from my perspective," she grumbled, but that was a half-hearted lie at best, and she only said it to keep form. She knew she was getting stronger; she could feel her muscles developing and she didn't get tired as quickly as she used to. She probably lost some weight too. She felt good.

"Think positively," he poked her side, and she shuffled away from him, stiffling the shriek that rose in her throat. "Maybe I'll be able to begin teaching you how to wield a weapon. Well, only if it's not a bow. I'm rubbish at archary." 

"You are?" 

"You can't be good at everything," he told her wryly. 

They lasped into a comfortable silence. It was one of the pleasant nights, when it wasn't so cold that she wanted to wear six or seven layers, or so hot and humid she thought she was going to drown in her own sweat. The trees seemed to sigh in the wind, and the stars shone above her head. Her eyes were drawn to Andromeda, like the constellation was a Syrine's song.

"That's what it is . . ." He said softly, almost sounding surprised. She turned her head and looked up at him, but his eyes were fixated on the stars. 

"What is?" She asked. He looked down at her then glanced away. His hand cupped the back of his neck. 

"Your eyes; they're like stars." 

Her cheeks felt warm, but her limbs lost their tautness at the same time. "You're really someone I can't understand easily, Percy. One moment harsh and strict, the next . . ." she shook her head. "I don't know; it's not exactly nice. Maybe someday I will be able to understand, just like fathoming constellations." 

"Fathom?" He sounded confused. "What does that mean?" 

"You don't know?" He shook his head, and his lips twitched— like he was getting ready to say something awfully sarcastic, or thinking it. She felt warm though as she pushed herself up. "Fathoming is like . . . thinking. No, more like, understanding. Understanding something difficult after thinking a lot about it. That's the best way I can describe it."