Chapter Thirty-Seven:
Mercy Isn't Reserved for Him.
— Oh, please, give me mercy no more —
it's a kindness                you can't afford !

A traitor who'd changed the trajectory of their lives was no longer tolerated.

Everyone seemed to coddle him. So many people sympathized, or tried to excuse his actions, and Percy Jackson was fucking sick of it. But he wasn't the only one. It was evident that Colette was sick of seeing him, too. Percy could read the anger that overwhelmed her whenever he was in sight, and he understood it. He was sure Annabeth felt the betrayal more than he did, but he was the one that felt the fury that came with being almost assassinated by the asshole. But when the blonde stepped forward, daggers gliding along the skin of her wrists gracefully as her eyes lit up along with her veins, Percy knew it was his turn to take a step back. She needed an outlet for her rage that's been stirring within her since the end of the previous summer, and the perfect one was right in front of her.

               "Hm?" Colette prodded. "Who is not leaving this boat alive, Luke?" She repeated her question, but it was different that time — less cruel amusement and more murderous rage, fully intending to hurt the older boy before her. "If you want to fight, it is going to be you and I. Not with Percy or Annabeth — no one touches them," her golden glowing eyes flashed even brighter and darted to the demigods and monsters around them in warning before glaring back at the original recipient of her anger, "— not with anyone else. You and I, alone."

Luke curled his lip, sneering.

Everyone at his beck and call had frozen at Colette's threatening defensive position, but their eyes slowly turned to him, waiting for his order because he was in charge.

Funny.

A boy with a man's position.

A half-god with a Titan's command.

Before Luke could say anything, Agrius burst onto the deck leading a flying horse. It was the first pure-black Pegasus Percy had ever seen, with wings like a giant raven. The Pegasus mare bucked and whinnied. He could understand her thoughts. She was calling Agrius and Luke some names Percy had only ever thought about using toward the traitor, ones so bad Chiron would've washed her muzzle out with soap.

               "Sir!" Agrius called, barely dodging a stray Pegasus hoof. "Your steed is ready!"

Luke kept his eyes on Colette, but his body language read differently — he was ready to bolt, leaving them to his soldiers.

Percy was ready to call him out, deem him cowardly, but Colette had already seen it.

With a sense of speed Percy had only ever seen from Hermes kids, a golden dagger went soaring and lodging itself into Luke's shoulder.

Luke yelled out in pain, but he didn't move quick enough to escape Colette. She ran at him, her free hand grabbing the dagger she'd thrown and twisting it into his flesh and bone — pushing further when his knees buckled below him. Only when she had him on his knees did she rip the dagger out, angling her clean one at his pulse point, and taking a short second to look at (admire?) his blood on her knife with a sharp smile. When she looked back at Luke, Percy felt his lips part slightly. Annabeth was wringing her fingers together. Grover was shaking. Tyson's eyes were wide. But Percy could only gape.

Her expression was one he'd only seen in flashes. She looked like a god. There was power clearly thrumming in her veins, eyes only burning brighter with the cruelty of her smile.

She leaned closer to Luke, crouching slightly so that her lips could whisper in his ear.

What she'd said, Percy had no clue. But his eyes had strayed to watch her bloody dagger. Widening them when she struck the blade into Luke's side again — only that time, it was the other side. Luke's face scrunched with anguish, only heightened by the words in his ear.

Instead of pulling the knife out immediately the way she had last time, she slashed it out of his skin. His shirt tearing for the second time, a clean cut from below his ribs and before his spine, outward — what very well could've been a fatal blow. It definitely looked like it.

Annabeth had gasped quietly, muffled by the hand she'd slapped over her mouth.

But Percy knew better. Colette had told him differently. She didn't want to kill Luke. No matter how angry she was because of him, it would pain her beyond belief to have to be the one to kill him. And, like it'd been thrown in Percy's face, she was the Daughter of Medicine — she knew which places in the human body weren't fatal to stab and slash through.

Even the demigods around them, the ones on Luke's side, seemed stunned by how deadly Colette had become.

She always had been from what Percy noted. But she kept it reserved for moments of need. That had changed. She was no longer weary of people fearing her for her power and capabilities, she was embracing their terror.

And suddenly, whish!

Everyone's eyes darted to the sound, no one paying attention to the way Colette's face contorted into a grimace for a second. A red-feathered arrow sprouted from Oreius' mouth. His hold on Annabeth and Grover's shirts faltered. His expression shifted into one of pure surprise as he crumpled onto the deck.

               "Brother!" Agrius wailed. He let the Pegasus' reins go slack just long enough for the black steed to kick him in the head and fly away free over Miami Bay.

Everyone watched in stunned silence as the twins' bodies dissolved into smoke.

Then there was a wild chorus of war cries and hooves thundering against metal. A dozen Centaurs charged out of the main stairwell.

               "Ponies!" Tyson cried in delight, immediately distracted.

Colette straightened up, letting Luke crumble to the floor, and spinning her daggers to turn them back into earrings.

After that, Percy's mind had trouble processing everything he was seeing. Chiron was among the crowd, but his relatives were almost nothing like him. There were Centaurs with black, Arabian stallion bodies, others with gold palomino coats, others with orange-and-white spots like paint horses. Some wore brightly colored T-Shirts with Day-Glo letters that said PARTY PONIES: SOUTH FLORIDA CHAPTER. Some were armed with bows, some with baseball bats, and some with paintball guns. One had his face painted like a Comanche warrior and was waving a large, orange, styrofoam hand making a big number one. Another was bare-chested and painted entirely green. A third had googly-eye glasses with the eyeballs bouncing around on slinky coils, and one of those baseball caps with soda-can-and-straw attachments on either side (like that one episode of SpongeBob).

They exploded onto the deck with such ferocity and color that everyone was further stunned by the blinding nature of the attack.

One of the many warriors raised a spear. Whether it was stupid or brave, Percy didn't know, but he did know that one of the Centaurs shot a custom made arrow with a leather boxing glove on the end. It smacked the warrior in the face and sent them crashing into the swimming pool.

Everyone else scattered, leaving Luke on the ground, underneath a pool of his own blood.

"Come get some!" A Party Pony yelled.

They let loose their paintball guns. A wave of blue and yellow exploded against Luke's warriors, blinding them, and splattering them from head to toe. They tried to run, only to slip and fall.

Chiron galloped toward Annabeth and Grover, neatly plucking them off the deck, and depositing them on his own back.

Percy was stock-still, but his body immediately woke up when Colette limped toward him. She fell into him, his arms instinctively wrapping around her waist to let her fall into him.

"What the Hell happened?" He searched her body for injuries, failing to find any.

She buried her face into his collarbone, grimacing as she gripped the sleeve of his shirt. "My calf," she seethed, "the idiot used his sword when the Centaurs arrived."

He held her tightly, peering over her to find a bloody mess on the back of her leg. Just then, a large alarm bell thrummed somewhere below deck, furthering his panic.

"Shit, Lettie." He hissed sympathetically.

When warriors started getting over their shock and fighting back against the Centaurs, Tyson slapped half a dozen aside, knocking them over the guardrail into the Miami Bay. But there were more warriors coming up the stairs.

"Withdraw, brethren!" Chiron called out.

A palomino horse hoisted Percy, and Colette subsequently, onto his back. "Dude, get your big friend!"

Percy adjusted Colette so her leg wasn't touching anything that could hurt her further. "Tyson!" He yelled. "C'mon!"

Tyson dropped the two warriors he was about to tie into a knot and jogged after the palomino horse that Percy and Colette were occupying. He jumped onto the nearest Centaur's back.

"Dude!" The Centaur groaned despite being warned by the palomino one, almost buckling under Tyson's weight. "Do the words 'low-carb-diet' mean anything to you?"

Luke's warriors were organizing themselves into a phalanx. But by the time they were ready to advance, the Centaurs had galloped to the edge of the deck and fearlessly jumped the guardrail, as if it were a steeplechase and not ten stories above ground. Percy was almost a hundred percent sure they were going to die. They plummeted toward the docks, but the Centaurs hit the asphalt with a barely-there jolt and galloped off, whooping and yelling taunts at the Princess Andromeda as they raced into the streets of downtown Miami.

Percy had no idea what the Miamians were thinking as they galloped by.

Streets and buildings began to blur as the Centaurs picked up speed. It felt as if space were compacting — as if each Centaur step took them miles and miles. In no time, they'd left the city behind. They raced through marshy fields of high grass and ponds and stunted trees.

Percy gave himself a chance take a glance at Colette, eyes widening when he noticed just pale she was becoming with blood loss.

Finally, they found themselves in a trailer park at the edge of a lake. The trailers were all horse trailers, tricked out with televisions and mini-refrigerators and mosquito netting.

They were in a Centaur camp.

"Dude!" A Party Pony spoke aloud to anyone around as he unloaded his gear. "Did you see that bear-guy? He was all like: 'Woah, I have an arrow in my mouth!'"

The Centaurs with googly-eye glasses laughed. "That was awesome! Head slam!"

The two Centaurs charged at each other with full-force and knocked heads, then went staggering off in different directions with permanent crazy grins on their faces.

Chiron sighed. He set Annabeth and Grover down on a picnic blanket, gesturing for Percy and Colette to join them. "I really wish my cousins wouldn't slam their heads together. They don't have the brain cells to spare."

Percy really wanted to take a moment — maybe process the fact that Chiron had saved them, maybe laugh at the sardonic humor from the Centaur — but he couldn't. Colette was getting paler by the second, and the blood running down her leg wasn't letting up.

              "Chiron," Percy begged the mentor, "she needs help, please."

              Chiron's eyes darted around her form frantically, eyes widening at the sight of her bloody leg. He immediately set to action, taking her from Percy's arms. He rested her against the blanket, keeping her leg away from the floor. He knelt to be closer, too. "What happened?"

Annabeth was quickly searching Chiron's bag for anything she knew was for healing, eyes watering as Grover watched fearfully.

              "Luke used his sword on 'er when all the Centaurs got there." Percy answered grimly, his own hands shaking because of the amount of blood that got on them when he was carrying her on the palomino Centaur.

Chiron made quick work of cleaning the excessive blood from her leg, revealing the actual wound that lied beneath the crimson.

Percy had to grind his teeth together, clenching his fists tightly as to stop from erupting any nearby water. The asshole had done a number on Colette's leg. A thick and opened wound from the back of her knee right up to her Achilles heel. His blade had been unforgiving.

Her own fists were clenched tightly when Chiron took a needle and thread to her skin. Just barely able to chew through the ambrosia Annabeth had placed in her mouth tentatively.

By the time everything was said and done, Chiron was still grimacing at the wound. "His sword is not normal, Miss Victoire. Not the same as your weapons, but unique nonetheless. It will take longer to heal. I recommend keeping weight off of it. We'll find something to help when we get to camp, yes?"

Colette could only nod, mind and eyes elsewhere.

Percy swallowed, figuring he might as well change the conversation. "So, now what?" He broke the silence. "We jus' let the Princess Andromeda sail away? Kronos' on the ship — parts of him, anyway."

"I'm afraid, Percy, that today had been something of a draw. We didn't have the strength in numbers to take that ship. Luke was not organized enough to pursue us. Miss Victoire may have wounded him, but Luke did the same. Nobody won."

"But we got the Fleece!" Annabeth seemed to find her voice, then. "Clarisse is on her way back to camp with it right now." She'd found some faith in the older girl.

Chiron nodded, but he still looked uneasy. "You are all true heroes. And you must return to Half-Blood Hill as soon as possible. The Centaurs shall carry you."

"Ain't you comin', too?" Percy demanded, he hadn't worked his ass off to get his mentor pardoned for nothing.

"Oh, yes, Percy. I'll be relieved to get home. My brethren here simply do not appreciate Dean Martin's music. Besides, I must have some words with Mr. D. There's the rest of the summer to plan. So much training to do. And I want to see ... I'm curious about the Fleece."

Percy didn't know what he meant exactly, but it may him worry about what Luke had said: I was going to let you take it ... once I was done with it. Had he just been lying? No, there had to be more to it. Kronos' alias wasn't deemed the Crooked One for no reason.

Over by the campfire, Tyson let loose with his paintball gun. A blue projectile splattered against one of the Centaurs, hurling him backward into the lake. The Centaur came up, grinning, covered in swamp muck and blue paint — he gave Tyson two thumbs up anyway.

               "Annabeth," Chiron began, "perhaps you and Grover would go supervise Tyson and my cousins before they ... teach each other too many bad habits?" They seemed to have an understanding when their eyes locked.

               Annabeth smiled and nodded, finishing off the braid she'd been absentmindedly creating in Colette's hair. "Sure, Chiron." She hauled Grover up by his arm. "Come on, Goat Boy."

               "But I don't like paintball."

               "Well, today you do." She gave him a playful shove toward where the campfire was.

That left three.

               Chiron was still looking Colette over worriedly, wondering when she'd snap out of whatever state she'd driven herself into. "Percy, I had a talk with Annabeth on the way here. A talk about the Prophecy."

Uh oh, Percy thought to himself.

               "It wasn't ha' fault." He defended the brunette. "I made her — them tell me."

               His eyes flickered with irritation, but when he looked back at Colette, that looked turned into weariness. "I suppose I could not expect to keep it secret forever."

               "So am I the one in the Prophecy?"

               Chiron couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Colette's barely-blinking, blank gaze. "I wish I knew, Percy. You're not yet eighteen. For now, we must simply train you as best as we can, and leave the future to the Fates."

The Fates.

Percy hadn't thought about them in a long time. But as soon as Chiron mentioned them, something in Percy's head clicked.

               "That's what they meant."

               "That's what what meant?" Chiron frowned at the murmur.

               "Last summa'. The omen from the Fates, when I saw 'em snip somebody's life string." Colette's eyes focused as soon as those words left Percy's mouth, thoughts long forgotten as she stared at him with wide eyes and parted lips. "I thought it meant I was finna' die right away, but it's worse than that. It's got somethin' to do wit' ya' Prophecy. The death they foretold — it's gon' happen when I'm eighteen."

               "No." Colette argued immediately.

               "What?" Percy blinked at her. "What d'you mean no?"

Chiron looked between them nervously.

               "You're wrong." Colette continued. "Your interpretation is wrong. You are not dying."

               "But ... the Prophecy—"

               "—I do not give a fuck about the Prophecy. It has nothing to do with your death. You might be the Hero in the Prophecy, but it was not your life string that was cut."

               "How do you know that?"

               Her mouth had opened to reply, but Chiron held up a hand to cut her off — a stern glint in his eyes as he stared at her. "Miss Victoire, you forget yourself." A sharp exhale left her nose, turning away from them and letting her eyes become dead stared again.

               "Percy," the Centaur turned his attention back to the boy, "whether or not you are the Child of the Prophecy, Kronos thinks you might be. And after today, he will finally despair of turning you to his side. That is the only reason he hasn't killed you yet, you know. As soon as he's sure he can't use you, he will destroy you."

               "You talk like you know 'im."

               Chiron pursed his lips. "I do know him."

               Percy stared at him. Sometimes he forgot just how old his mentor was. "Is that why Mr. D blamed you when the tree was poisoned? Why you said some people don't trust you?"

               "Indeed."

               "But, Chiron ... I mean, c'mon! Why'd they think you'd eva' betray the camp fa' Kronos?"

               Chiron's eyes were a deeper brown than usual, full of thousands of years of sadness. "Percy, remember your training. Remember your study of mythology. What is my connection to the Titan Lord?"

               Percy thought for a second, shaking his head. He always got the mythologies mixed up. "You ... owe Kronos a favor or somethin'? He spared ya' life?"

               "Percy," Chiron sighed, his voice impossibly soft, "the Titan Kronos is my father."

Stunned was the only way Percy could describe his state — for what felt like the hundredth time that day, too.

His mind was reeling. Realizing just how deep everyone's connections went.

Then he understood.

Mercy was not reserved for anyone.

Never in war.

ICARUS INQUIRES:

^^^^^^^^^^me realizing how traumatized i've made Lettie, whoops

EEEKKK TWO MORE CHAPTERS. I'm so excited to start TTC, you guys don't understandddddd. Luke is gonna get some revenge on Colette for all the wounds she left him with, whoopsie daisy.

DEBRIEF TIME:

— Percy pov 'cos it's good for the soul

— Percy said, Ima let her [ Lettie ] take this one, she needs it more than me

— Lettie x Luke fight. More of a tie this time. 'Cos Luke is losing himself, uh oh

— What did Lettie tell Luke? Who knows, maybe we'll find out eventually

— Ouch, poor Lettie's leg is all sorts of fucked

— PARTY PONIES

— Chiron saves the day?

— Lettie's boo-boo is not good

— Lettie with a cane coming soon 👀

— Lettie almost spilled the beans *insert shocked face here*

ANYWAYYYYY

Until next time, folks. Hope you all enjoyed. Don't forget to vote (if you want) and comment (plsplspls do) I LOVE YOU ALLLLL <333