𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 - jason grace ¹

x. fear of falling

X. VIOLET !
⋆ ★
fear of falling

"You were amazing," Jason told Violet.

"It's nothing, really."

The compliment should've made her day, made her spark with joy at finally being recognized for her abilities. But all she could think of was her mother, her cold and heartless mother. Violet had had several family reunions on her dad's side back in Korea. But it was safe to say her least favorite was the one she just had with her mom — a stone cold bitch if she had ever seen one. Her mother didn't really want to spend time or get to know her daughter, she wanted to use her like a puppet. Everyone at camp talked about how their parents wouldn't care if they died or disappeared, Violet always had the slightest hope her own mother would. But Khione hadn't even claimed Violet, not officially until Chiron figured it out for himself who she was. And the one time they met, Khione was focused on having Jason join her statue collection and not seeing her one and only daughter. What a kick in the gut for Violet Yang.

Violet's father had never told her about her mom. It was one of the only topics never mentioned in the house. If she had asked he might've told her a few details to keep her from asking anything else. But Violet didn't want her dad to deal with that topic of conversation. He didn't need to know his daughter was getting bullied at school when her classmates realized she didn't have a mom. He was far too busy making sure her career was maintained.

Khione was cruel, she had no idea what her father saw in her or how they even met in the first place. But now it was too late to ask either of them. Her father was back at their home in Seoul, and Khione? She was the last person Violet wanted to talk to. Especially when a feeling in Violet's stomach was telling her Khione was hiding something. The glare Boreas sent his own daughter was telling Violet they knew more than they were telling her and her friends — especially Khione.

Evil things are stirring, Zethes had warned them. The closer they got to the solstice, the less time Violet had to figure out what her mother was hiding. And the less time she had to lead the others to their potential deaths.

"Hey," Jason's warm hand touched Violet's arm. She didn't understand why he was so nice to her after everything that happened. Talking to the girl whose mother wanted to turn you into an ice sculpture wouldn't be on Violet's priority list. "I know that wasn't easy for you, seeing your mom."

"Understatement of the year," Violet whispered to herself. There was no way Violet would've let her own mother keep Jason. What bothered her more was the way Boreas had changed form, and why he'd let them go. It had something to do with Jason's past, those tattoos on his arm. Boreas assumed Jason was some sort of Roman, and Romans didn't mix with Greeks. She kept waiting for Jason to offer an explanation, but he clearly didn't want to talk about it.

Until now, Violet had been able to dismiss Jason's feeling that he didn't belong at Camp Half-Blood. Obviously he was a demigod. Of course he belonged. But now . . . she was sure. What if he was something else? What if he really was an enemy? She couldn't stand that idea any more than she could stand her own mother.

Leo passed them some sandwiches from his pack. He'd been quiet ever since they'd told him what happened in the throne room. "I still can't believe Khione," he said. "She looked so nice. Not to mention your mom, V? Didn't expect that."

"Trust me, man," Jason said. "Snow may be pretty, but up close it's cold and nasty."

Piper and Leo each laughed at his words but Violet felt like she got punched. Cold and nasty was how Jason was describing not just her mom — but her. Her territory was a bad thing to him, not in the way it was to her. The insult probably shouldn't have hit Violet as hard as it did, but she couldn't help it. She knew people thought she was a freak, a freak who can't even control her own powers at times. Snow was her comfort. To Jason? It was a curse to him. Violet remembered she was different than the rest of them. And it struck her like a knife remembering.