Unmaking Percy

Part I - IV, continued (The Sleeping Castle)

"Well, if that's how it's gonna be" the enchantress sighed before raising her arms, palms-up. A bowstring of a smile drew across her face. 

Percy sat next to a woman who wore a ridiculous headdress. It was far too tall and covered in feathers, and she kept bumping her elbow on his face as she lifted her arms to steady it. If this dinner went on for much longer, he would be bruised all over.

Gods, he was bored. He looked around him, taking in the gilded surroundings and the dazzling reflections of the chandeliers. Somehow, the skewered and honey-glazed boar served in front of him with an apple in its mouth and a lemon up its arse wasn't the most fucked thing at that dinner table. Every guest was weighed down with jewels and headpieces and the misery of having to hide how miserable they were. Someone proposed a toast, he didn't quite know to whom or what, and chairs scraped and rattled as everyone stood with their glasses raised. It proved too much of a challenge for his neighbour's headdress. It toppled backwards from her tiny head and flung itself at a passing server with a tray of salmon, which he served immediately, on her. The woman said something about good help these days, and someone across the table said something about aunt Bethany, sit down, we'll get someone to wipe that salmon off you.

"Kill me."

Percy looked to his left, to the woman who had just spoken.

"Valeria?"

She was wearing a dark blue uniform that was perfectly tailored to her, and her blond hair was intricately braided behind her back. He had never seen her look so formal.

"Yes, alas, it is still me. Still stuck here. Did you think I'd left? Nah. That's a coward's way out. They'll have to drag me out of here, either because I've died of boredom or because I've killed everyone else."

Percy saw the room around him flicker for the briefest of seconds. This time, he was certain it was not him who had blinked. It had been everything else.

"Wait – where are we?"

Valeria stared at him with her usual stony expression.

"What do you mean, where are we? You didn't drink that much yet. Maybe you wish you did. We're in cousin Jaxon's birthday party. Here, have some more wine."

"Who the hell is cousin Jaxon?"

This time, her hardened expression softened into a look of concern. He half expected her to check his temperature and spoon-feed him sugar, but his other half knew better.

"Are you alright? Evans' cousin, Jaxon. It's just another party we need to show ourselves in."

Evans? Percy leaned back in his chair and craned his neck to see beyond Valeria's towering, stately figure. He spotted Evans' head of copper hair, right next to her, but he couldn't see more from that angle. He flung himself forward instead, nearly splattering a bowl of consommé all over his blue and gold-trimmed tunic.

"Evans?" he called out.

He turned his head to look at Percy, with as spiritless and resigned a look as Percy had ever seen in him. It was only then that Percy became aware of how peculiar Evans' ever-present calm was, how vivid and awake and unsubdued it was, even if it was calm. Percy realized it now because it wasn't there anymore. It had been replaced by doldrums.

"Something's not right" Percy said.

Evans shrugged. Percy had never seen him do that. Those shoulders had not been made for shrugging.

"It's just a dinner party. It'll be over in a bit. We needed to come, you know" he said.

"We're not supposed to be here" Percy insisted. Panic stirred in his voice.