DAISY || P. Jackson x Fem O/C

1.1 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐮𝐬

 ~⚡~{[CHAPTER ONE]}~⚡~

[The Daughter of Dionysus]

WHEN PERCY FINALLY came around for good, there was nothing weird about his surroundings, except that they were nicer than he was used to. He was sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smelled like strawberries. There was a blanket over his legs, a pillow behind his neck. All that was great, but his mouth felt like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. His tongue was dry and nasty and every one of his teeth hurt.

On the table next to him was a tall drink. It looked like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol stuck through a maraschino cherry. His hand was so weak he almost dropped the glass once he got his fingers around it.

"Careful," a familiar voice said. Grover was leaning against the porch railing, looking like he hadn't slept in a week. Under one arm, he cradled a shoe box. He was wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange T-shirt that said CAMP HALF-BLOOD. Just plain old Grover. Not the goat boy.

 So maybe he'd had a nightmare. Maybe his mom was okay. They were still on vacation, and they'd stopped there at that big house for some reason. And...

"You saved my life," Grover said. "I... well, the least I could do... I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this." Reverently, he placed the shoe box in Percy's lap. Inside was a black-and-white bulls horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood. It hadn't been a nightmare.

 "The Minotaur," Percy said.

 "Um, Percy, it isn't a good idea –"

"That's what they call it in the Greek myths, isn't it?" Percy demanded. "The Minotaur. Half man, half bull." Grover shifted uncomfortably.

"You've been out for two days. How much do you remember?"

"My mom. Is she really..."

He looked down.

Percy stared across the meadow. There were groves of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley was surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of them, was the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looked beautiful in the sunlight. His mother was gone. The whole world should be black and cold. Nothing should look beautiful.

 "I'm sorry," Grover sniffled. "I'm a failure. I'm – I'm the worst satyr in the world." 

 He moaned, stomping his foot so hard it came off. Sorry, the Converse hi-top came off. The inside was filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole.

"Oh, Styx!" he mumbled. Thunder rolled across the clear sky. As he struggled to get his hoof back in the fake foot, Percy thought, Well, that settles it.

 Grover was a satyr. And Percy was ready to bet that if he shaved his curly brown hair, he'd find tiny horns on his head. But he was too miserable to care that satyrs existed, or even Minotaurs. All that meant was his mom really had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light. He was alone. An orphan. He would have to live with... Smelly Gabe? No. That would never happen. He would live on the streets first. He would pretend he was seventeen and join the army. He'd do something.