𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 // 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧

iii. Backstabber

— ROUTINE WAS EASY to find at Camp Half-Blood. Percy ended up with Annabeth most mornings, the blonde taking the time to teach him Ancient Greek. The rest of the day was spent with camp activities, while attempting to find some sort of giveaway as to whom Percy Jackson's father was.

Hugo kept Clarisse away, the pair of them spouting casual French as they traversed through the camp grounds. Percy wasn't sure what to feel when he watched them. His biggest bully at camp being all chummy with his new friend. Despite the fact the two were brother and sister.

Hugo saw Percy around day after day. He wasn't as strong as him and his siblings, or as good at archery as Apollo's cabin seven. He didn't have Dionysus' way with wine plants, or Hephaestus' skills with metal. He was everything he was when he first showed up to half-blood hill: nobody.

Luke stuck to him like glue on paper, like he did with all new campers when they first arrived. He comforted Percy in cabin eleven, after two weeks of no signs. (Unless you count the "bathroom incident")

Capture the flag was nearing when Hugo formed his plan. He wasn't as methodical as Athena's children, although, strategy is an integral element of war. And he was no Agamemnon. Quite the contrary; some of this sisters called him Hector, to tease his unvoiced authority. He wasn't the counsellor, he was too young for that. But he was strong and brave, and most importantly, powerful.

Truthfully, Hugo debated flipping sides. Seeing as he didn't exactly see eye-to-eye with his siblings in most regards. He liked to see himself as better, because he was. Like he possessed more self control than the others. But did he really? Honestly, he didn't know.

Hence why you could see why he and Clarisse would often clash. Actually, often wasn't even the half of it. It was constant. They fought continuously. Both verbally and physically.

Hugo always "won", even if Clarisse was objectively correct. She despised her brother's power, how easily others would sway to his side. She craved that authority. But had too much pride to lose what little she currently had. Hugo was too strong for her. No matter how close she got, she always lost.

He was Achilles. She was Ajax the Lesser.

Her brother stayed leaps and bounds ahead of her, no matter how hard she tried to catch up. It wasn't fair, and she was pissed.

He was a god. She was a slave. Forced to worship her brother's will because he had all the power to make her. He could take everything from her, and she knew it. In fact, she knows Hugo is aware of his title. He knows he's good, he knows how far his reign stretches. To Clarisse, he looks like a cruel human while she is a starving dog, dangling food over her head only to whip it away at the last second as he cackles from his godly thrown.

She wasn't going to lose. Not this time. But she can't win against Hugo. So if winning over Hugo isn't an option then...

Her eyes spotted someone, a lock of raven hair. Fiddling with a bow as his legs quaked like a newborn horse. Hugo stood behind him, attempting to guide his arrow. But the boy missed, lurching at the force as the arrow slipped through his fingers.

Clarisse was certain his mouth was full of dirt. Hugo laughed uncontrollably, clutching his stomach and falling to the ground. Percy began to laugh as well, dirt smudged across his lips, nose and cheeks.

Hugo scooted closer, still wiping tears from his eyes. His fingers supported Percy's chin as he licked the pad of his thumb. The mud smudged even further and Hugo let out a childish giggle. The two grinned at each other, Hugo's eyes gleaming like a stained glass window. The French boy looked away, batting his eyelashes behind his thick curtain of chestnut hair, his cheeks as red as the strawberry fields. Percy looked equally as awkward, utterly oblivious to the intimacy of the situation.