camp swap thing
An idea I had about how Jason would have handled Thalia dying and her tree being poisoned if he’d been Greek. Enjoy!
Jason tucks his knees to his chest, fingers picking at the scab from where he cut his leg racing Annabeth. He scoots backwards, shifting his weight until the bark digs into his back. The press of the roots on either side of him is a gentle weight that let’s him breath. Camp is gone, somewhere on the other side of the hill that he can’t see or hear. Here it’s only him, his thoughts, and his sister.
“Luke said I did a good job today.” Jason’s muttered words break the silence of the hill. “He said I could be the best swordsman in camp soon. I just need to get a little bigger.” He glances at his arms, studying the faint white scars that stand out against the tanned skin. “I think you’d be proud of me. I don’t let Annabeth get into fights but I don’t let anyone be mean to her either.”
He waits, his words drifting off into the rustle of the wind through the branches. He holds his breath, listening for a creak or a groan or anything. He waits until his lungs burn as much as his eyes do before sucking in a shaky breath.
Jason stares at the dirt beneath his shoes, at the scattered needles and pinecones, at the empty hill stretched out before him.
“I miss you Thalia. I- I hate being in that cabin. I hate being alone. Please- I- I don’t want to go back there.” He blinks, pushing back on the pain that ripples up through his chest, bubbling into something that settles over his eyes and in his lungs.
The first soft, broken sob breaks from him and he clamps down on it. Luke’s voice echoes in his head, the voice that says that Thalia is gone, the voice that tells him it’s the god’s fault.