Percy Jackson, Assassin of Ice

Were it all Began

    Third Person Perspective Of View (POV)

     The war had ended. The monsters were all dead, the Romans had surrendered, thankful that there bloodthirsty leader was gone, Gaea was dead, unfortunately at the cost of one of the seven, Leo Valdez. The Greek demigods looked around at one another, as if making sure it was real. Silence, the scent of blood, and monster dust filled the air. Then the whisper of a single camper started an uproar. "We did it." Whispered the hero known as Percy Jackson.

    The entire camp blossomed in noise. Screams and cheers filled the silence. The dust in the air started to settle and everyone ran to see there friends, if they were still alive. A lot of campers had died in the battle, and each and every shall be remembered with great honor. The noise receded slowly after a good thirty minutes of celebration, when people started to find bodies of dead soldiers, who died to protect there land.

     Even a single camper could decide the fate of the war, for a single monster that wouldn't be killed could kill another soldier, disabling them further, Though it would have been a definite loss of they didn't have the two time savior, Percy Jackson.

     Percy sat on the porch with the hardest task of all, seeing who was dead, and who was surviving. Out of the near five hundred campers, almost half had been killed in the war zone just down the hill. The hill covered in blood, monster dust, and dead warriors. Percy's eyes saddened with all the campers that had just died, but they still had that dancing spark of happiness.

     It was nearly impossible to rid of the mischievous, delighted twinkle in his eyes. He still had it after all the horrors he had faced. He had walked through hell and came out with his same sassy self, though you could tell it was diminished a tiny amount if you caught him off guard, or in a bad mood. But he would quickly cover it up. 

     Nobody knew how he did it. He was like he had a mask of happiness glued to his face, never to come undone. He marked of the last body, then counted heads with Annabeth at his side. The numbers didn't up. They frowned. They were missing thirty-three campers. Then they remembered the infirmary and went there.

     There were around six people working it and another twenty-seven laying in beds, wrapped in gauze, blood quickly bleeding through some wounds, and kept getting replaced. By frantic children of Apollo. Will Solace and Nico di Angelo were bickering back and forth, and the injured were being entertained by them so Annabeth and Percy let it happen.

     "You know Nico, if you let people near your dark heart of yours you could actually make some friends. People aren't the ones pushing you away. YOU are pushing THEM away." Will called over his shoulder while bandaging a campers leg, which was clawed open.

     "Oh, look, its the creepy gothic dark son of Hades! Lets go frolic in a meadow and pick flowers together until we die!" Nico called over, mocking Will, who just looked at him.

     "Was that supposed to be me?" He asked.

     Nico rolled his eyes. "No, it was Annabeth Chase, yes it was you!"

     "Well, I think that is a completely wrong on the adjectives. I think sarcastic, unique, hot son of Hades is better." He said, moving to the next patient, who tried to laugh but ended up wincing. 

     Nico's expression was priceless, and he didn't say another word. 

     Demeter campers were occasionally bringing in herbs to help heal the campers (and listen to the bickering between the son of Apollo and son of Hades). "Get better campers. You did amazing, every single one of you. You served well." Announced Percy before walking out, and getting Nico's attention.