Work Text:
an Ωmega: an end, probably (though nothing ever really ends)
Always the rebel, Raelle thinks. It’s fond, though a little bit exasperated. Of course Scylla won’t make the easy choice. Easy has never been their forte.
Zeus remains seated on his throne, preparing to make his judgement. He isn’t a regular presence in Raelle’s life unless there’s a world-ending disaster, but this is the most tired she’s seen her father. His hair seems more salt than pepper, now, and the roar of his thunder is more weary than angry.
The rest of the Olympians remain silent but their agitation is nevertheless felt. It makes Raelle want to throw something at their heads, before she notices something else.
Hades seems the calmest, here, merely watching. Raelle can’t read him well—no one ever can, she thinks—but when he meets her gaze, she cannot help the sharp inhale.
His eyes are like shadows, sucking the light out of everything, but there’s a flash of a challenge in their depths before he turns his attention to his daughter.
Scylla remains standing, head held high. Her shoulders are relaxed but there’s a determination in her stance that Raelle knows she won’t be able to sway.
Doomed to fail, according to the prophecy, and Scylla won’t back down. Alone against the world, alone against the gods, alone against her destiny. She will be forgotten but as a footnote in history, a lesson to be taught to new demigods with too much power and not enough guidance. An escape route for the gods to save their own glory, just like always.
It is no decision at all.
Easy has never been their forte . . .
. . . except when it comes to themselves.
She stands next to Scylla, taking her hand and linking their fingers together. Scylla starts, her eyes melting when she meets Raelle’s, and a whisper of a smile graces her lips.
“Wanna get out of here, Casper?” Raelle asks, tone casual.
Scylla chuckles. “Sure, Supergirl.”
Raelle looks at Hades. She’s not sure but she thinks there’s soft approval in his gaze. That might be just wishful thinking though.
She doesn’t have enough time to sort that out before Scylla’s grip tightens. There’s a scream, alarmed gasps, and a deafening boom.
And then they’re plunged into shadows.
Ϟ. lost (somewhere) in the middle
“‘Scylla’? Really? Like the sea monster?”
Scylla hums. “Exactly like the sea monster.”
“Wow.”
“My mother had a sick sense of humour.”
Raelle nods, not saying anything about the past tense. “So do you have a sister named Charybdis or something?” she says instead.
Scylla laughs, her eyes grateful and relieved, and Raelle grins.
“I thought you said you’re Sky Guy’s daughter.”
Raelle will deny this until her dying breath, but her heart’s nearly gone out of her throat with fright. “Jesus Christ, Scylla!”
“Wrong pantheon.” Scylla gets an apple from her satchel, wiping it on her sleeve before offering it to Raelle.
“Oh my gods.” Raelle is still trying to catch her breath, but she accepts the fruit. “Can you please wear a bell or something, I almost died.” She tries to glare but she knows it’s not effective at all, what with her hand still clutching her chest.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Scylla says, “I would have sensed your spirit leaving for the Underworld if you’re that close to death.” She sits on one of the many cots in the empty infirmary then gets an apple for herself.
“Thanks. That makes it so much better.” Raelle sighs. She gingerly sits beside Scylla, taking a bite of her own apple. “What were you saying anyway?”
“I thought you said you’re Sky Guy’s daughter,” she repeats.
“Yeah, I got that. I meant, like, what did you mean?”
“You’re a healer, are you not?”
Raelle pauses, glancing pointedly to where she’s been arranging her healing supplies. “Yes?”
“I thought Apollo’s children are the healers.”
“Ah.” She shrugs. “Generally, yeah. But my mama was an army doctor in the mortal world and she taught me most of what I know.”
“I see.”
“Also, there’s a bunch of kids from Hecate’s cabin who’re real into magic healing and their methods are pretty interesting, you know. I picked a few tricks here and there.”
Scylla’s eyes never leave her as she speaks. It’s one of Raelle’s favourite things about her; Scylla looks like there’s nothing she’d rather be doing than listen to what Raelle has to say. “I heard Anacostia say that she’s never seen a, well, a Sky Guy kid blessed with Apollo’s healing gifts in centuries.”
Raelle winces. “There’s that too.”
Scylla looks curious. “Not fond of those gifts?”
“What? No, not that.” She chews slowly. “I just— It makes me stand out.”
“And you don’t want that.” It’s not a question.
“I don’t.” She exhales. “I just wanted a regular life, you know? The kind mortals enjoy. But it’s difficult to do that when you’re both a child of the Big Guy and blessed by Apollo.”
“It’s not difficult,” says Scylla. “‘Impossible’ is the word I’d use, if I were you.”
Raelle snorts. “Yeah.” She shakes her head. “Others say I’m, you know, meant for great things because of that. But I think that’s just dumb.”
“How so?”
“Gifts or not, I’m still just me. And there’s more to living our lives than what the Fates decree.”
Scylla studies her with a single-minded focus that makes Raelle feel like she’s being set on fire.
(Sadly, she does know what that actually feels like, but this time, the sensation is much more welcome.
It’s less of a forest blaze and more of a warm hearth, as if she’s coming home after a long time.
It’s . . . nice.)
Silence stretches between them, sweet and comforting like the taffy candies her mama used to give Raelle when they went to carnivals.
“For the record,” Scylla says, finally, “if I did sense your spirit leaving, I would have done everything in my power to bring you back to me.”
Her tone is matter-of-fact, not to be doubted, and Raelle feels drunk on ambrosia. There’s a shift in the air, and the world tilts on its axis, as if Atlas has shrugged and displaced a piece of heaven.
“Cool,” Raelle answers, ever eloquent. “I’d do that for you too.”
Scylla’s lips quirks up slightly in a small smile, barely there but incredibly is, and oh.
This is the moment Raelle realises that she’ll cross Tartarus and back for this girl.
“I don’t think we’re meant to be friends.”
“Will you ever learn to knock.”
Scylla ignores that. She always does. “My dad’s who he is and your dad’s who he is. There’s no way they’re going to get along well ever. By principle, neither should we.”
Raelle blearily rubs at her face. “If Anacostia catches you during inspection again, even I won’t be able to bail you out. She’s gonna be so mad.”
“She can throw whatever she wants at me.” Scylla perches on the edge of Raelle’s bed, her hand falling on Raelle’s leg. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“I know.” Raelle groans, sitting up. “That’s half the problem.”
Scylla looks puzzled, as if she really can’t perceive that anything’s wrong with that. “How is that a problem?”
“Without fear, you also lack any self-preservation instinct and I’m this close to just tying you up until you learn your lesson and take care of yourself.”
Scylla just hums. “Kinky. What’s the other half of the problem?”
“I-I can’t with you.” Raelle groans again.
“Come on, what’s the other half?”
Raelle stares at her, and Scylla stares back. “The other half,” Raelle begins, “is that it makes me worry when you’re out there with no one to watch your back. And I can’t have that, because I need you safe.”
Scylla looks winded at that declaration, her mouth opening and closing as if she wants to say words but doesn’t know how to form them. Raelle just smiles and falls back on the bed, pulling Scylla with her. Her surprised squeak makes Raelle chuckle.
“Now can we just go to sleep? I have training with Abigail tomorrow morning and she’s extra vicious when I’m late.”
“Am I allowed to be here?” Scylla’s face is on Raelle’s shoulder, her breath warm against Raelle’s skin. Scylla’s weight on her is solid and comfortable, and Raelle’s arm tightens around her.
“You should have thought of that before entering, honestly.”
“That’s different.”
“I’m here,” Raelle just says, closing her eyes, already feeling slumber creeping in. “You’re allowed wherever I am.”
She doesn’t hear Scylla’s response, but she can feel her smile, and that’s enough.
“You like Hades’s kid, don’t you, Raelle?” Abigail asks her, apropos nothing, and Raelle falls on the floor. She just lies there for a moment, stares at the ceiling of the empty cabin as she reflects on everything she knows.
Tally barks a laugh, before reaching over and patting Raelle on the head. “There, there.”
“What brought this about?” Raelle asks back.
Abigail doesn’t look impressed, but then again, she never does. “I have eyes, Raelle.”
“That doesn’t sound vague nor creepy at all.”
“You might find comfort in deflection, but it won’t get you where you want to be, Raelle.”
“Can you just stop saying my name that way. It makes me feel like I’m about four years old.”
“Sure, Raelle,” Abigail says, and Raelle just sits up and glowers at her. “And you didn’t answer the question.”
“What if I do?” Raelle says. “Like her, I mean.”
It’s Tally who answers, “Then you should do something about it, I think? I’m no Aphrodite but even I can tell you’re happier when you’re with her.”
“I am happy.”
“Happier.” Tally considers her. “And more settled. Calmer.”
“Okay.”
“Okay ‘you’re going to do something about it’? Or ok—”
“Okay this conversation is over,” Raelle grumbles, and she just plops back down on the floor.
Tally teases her and Abigail calls her a coward for the rest of the night, and Raelle thinks of stars twinkling within bright blue eyes.
“You really call my father Sky Guy?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Names have power, do they not?”
“Yeah, but still.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t have a nickname for my father because I won’t believe you.”
“Hey!” Raelle huffs, indignant. “I do not!”
“Sure, Supergirl.”
Raelle stares. “Supergirl?”
“Blonde hair, blue eyes, can fly.” Scylla ticks a finger with each point. “Ridiculously strong too.”
“I don’t have heat vision.”
“You can summon lightning. That’s close enough.”
“You’re such a nerd,” Raelle declares, but she can’t stop grinning.
“I am not.”
“Yeah,” she says, mockingly, “whatever you say, Casper.”
She laughs out loud at Scylla’s gasp of outrage.
They’re sitting on the beach, watching the sunset. “We are not our fathers, you know.”
Scylla looks at her, quizzical.
“You once said maybe we’re not meant to be friends, what with them not being on the best terms. But I don’t care about that.” Scylla’s hand in hers is like a tether to the world. “I care about you, and that’s all there is to it.”
Scylla’s eyes hold more stars in them than the skies above them, and her smile is more beautiful than every sunset that is or was or will ever be.
And when Scylla kisses her, Raelle, for the first time, feels what it’s like to be truly gifted.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” Raelle asks, her skin pressing against Scylla’s, her fingers dancing down Scylla’s hips.
“I—” Scylla gasps as Raelle’s teeth nibble on the dip of her throat. “Yes, you idiot.”
Raelle likes hanging out in the camp forge. She enjoys watching the Hephaestus kids work on various projects, especially the weapons. There’s something calming here too; everyone’s too engrossed in their tasks to give Raelle a second glance. She’s free to just listen to the crackling fire and the constant sound of hammers against metal. It’s serene in its own way.
“Got nothing better to do, Collar?” Byron asks absently. He’s hunched over a collection of Celestial bronze bolts and nuts, glowering as if they’ve done him wrong. There’s a scroll of schematics beneath the mess, smeared with grease and oil.
“Your hospitality is charming as always.”
“Shouldn’t you be with the Athena and Ares kids?”
“They’ve got names, you know.”
“Still can’t believe Ares has a kid that sweet,” Byron mumbles under his breath. “I was betting she’s Demeter’s or something, with all that flowery spring vibe.”
Raelle grins. “Tally’s got a steel spine.”
Byron’s head snaps at her. “What?”
“It’s a metaphor!” she explains, laughing at his confusion. “I just meant she’s, like, tougher than people give her credit for. Once I saw her bench-pressing a couple hundred pounds, no sweat. She can lift Abigail during training exercises easily too.”
“Huh. Interesting.”
“Yeah. Anyway, they’ve got duties somewhere.” She gestures vaguely. “I wasn’t really listening, but they’re busy.”
“And your girlfriend?”
“Her stepmom sent her out on an errand, apparently.”
“Nice to know I’m your last resort.”
“Shut up, you’re not. I do have other friends, you know. Be glad I chose you as fourth—practically third—on the list.”
“Much appreciated.” Byron’s hands begin wringing together an assortment of copper and bronze cords. “Anyways, what’s the quest?”
“Not really a quest. Just an errand. You know how Persephone is sometimes.”
“Demigods delegated to shopping lists, I see.”
Raelle grunts, lying down on the blanket she’s brought in here months ago. “You know we’ve always been cannon fodder on the wars they refuse to fight, By.”
“Well,” Byron says, the cords starting to take shape, “best I make sure we’ve got weapons to even out the odds a little, huh?”
Raelle leaves the forge with a shiny new Celestial bronze scourge.
Raelle comes back to camp wounded. To be fair, it’s not just her: Abigail has gashes on her face, and Tally is limping with one leg broken. Raelle tried to heal them but there wasn’t much time and she’s too weak to even raise her arms.
Yeah, okay, maybe that doesn’t sound as reassuring as Raelle thinks.
But they did retrieve what they set out to do and no one died, so she still counts this quest as a win.
Unfortunately for her, Scylla doesn’t see it from her perspective at all.
Raelle is stuck in the infirmary with Abigail and Tally on the cots across from hers, and they don’t seem keen on saving her from her girlfriend’s cold fury. Scylla is standing over her and the look on her face makes Raelle wish she’s been knocked out by the healers earlier.
“Look, I can explain,” Raelle says.
“You totally can’t,” she hears Abigail mutter, and she glares even as Tally tries to smother a laugh.
“Shut up, Abigail.”
“It’s the truth though.”
Raelle inhales, closing her eyes. When she opens them again she very deliberately avoids looking at them, instead focusing on Scylla. “It wasn’t that bad,” she tries, and she winces because the spark in Scylla’s eyes means that it’s exactly the wrong thing to say.
She barely registers Tally saying “Oh you did not just” with a dash of pity and Abigail actually giggling at her coming misfortune before Scylla raises a wall of shadows around them, effectively putting them in a dark bubble that shields them from outside.
Raelle is really beginning to regret going after the Minotaur with one-tenth of a plan and nine-tenths of a prayer.
“You’re Sky Guy’s daughter but when it comes to battles, make sure you listen first to Athena’s kid, okay?”
“I thought you said Abigail’s too high and mighty.”
“You will not get to sass your way out of this.” Scylla glares at her, and Raelle can definitely feel her spirit leave the vicinity. “For all your lectures on keeping myself safe, I see you’re not taking your own advice.”
Raelle has nothing to say to that, so she stays silent.
“You don’t get to make me care about my life and then just throw yours away.” Scylla sits, takes Raelle’s hands in hers. Blue eyes so beloved are gleaming with worry and deep-rooted fear. Raelle aches for her. “Do you understand?”
Raelle swallows. She tugs Scylla closer, resting her forehead on Scylla’s temple. “Yes, ma’am,” she says, and means it.
an αlpha: a beginning (that changed everything)
Raelle is leaning against an oak tree in the Grove of Dodona, looking forward to enjoying the rare peace and quiet on camp. The oak trees in this place are sacred to Apollo, and technically she’s not allowed to be here. Nor is anyone else, for that matter. But Apollo owes her a favour from that last quest she’s sent on, something to do with stupid manticores, the sword of Perseus, and a stolen lighter.
(He offered to take her on a spin on the sun chariot as a reward, but she’d heard enough horror stories to decline that. Instead, she just asked for carte blanche in his grove, promising to not harm anything within the area just so she could have somewhere to escape to whenever she wanted.)
It’s easy to fall asleep here, and she’s nearly on the brink of it if it weren’t for the sudden form who appears right in front of her, soundless except for the crunch of fallen leaves. She’s clad in all black aside from a navy-blue army jacket. Her short dark hair falls in messy waves around her shoulders, and she’s . . . clutching an obsidian blade.
Raelle is crouched in an attack position before she can even register her action. “Who in Hades’s name are you?” she asks, looking at this newcomer with a mix of shock and not a little bit of curiosity.
The girl blinks, startled, before a smile forms on her lips, slow and magnetic. Raelle tries really hard not to notice that. (She fails.) “What you said.”
Her blue eyes are electrifying in their intensity. Like they can see past things beyond understanding, and she’s just waiting for all of it to unravel.
It’s incredibly distracting.
“What I— What did I say?” Raelle frowns, shaking her head. “Who are you?”
The girl shrugs. “A camper.”
At that Raelle snorts. “Right.” She straightens up, cocking her head to the side, considering the girl. “A camper who got here as if from air instead of using the actual entrance, like a normal person.”
“You and I both know anything and anyone within this camp is not normal.”
Well, she’s got Raelle there. “Touché,” she says. “Still doesn’t explain how you got here.”
“Shadows.”
What. “What.”
“You said I got here as if from air.” The girl shrugs again, sheathing her dagger and hiding it in her jacket. “I did not, for that would be against the Accord. The sky is not my father’s domain, but he does control the shadows.”
Oh.
Raelle considers the girl’s strange appearance, the mystery shrouding her. The odd response, What you said.
Oh.
The girl’s smile turns wry, wrapped in something sad. It makes Raelle’s skin itch. “It seems you have worked it out.”
“Yep.” Raelle clears her throat. “Though, you know, I didn’t ask about all that. I asked who you are.”
The girl studies her, and something flickers in her eyes.
Raelle wants to shiver but instead she feels electricity crawling beneath her skin. The moment seems prolonged, suspended across minutes and seconds, and Raelle feels thunder rumbling in her chest. This girl’s gaze is too blue, too intense, too focused, and it makes Raelle unbalanced, as if she’s just learning to fly for the first time.
Before she can do anything—she’s not sure what exactly she’d have done, but it’s something between pulling the girl closer or pushing her away, probably—the girl seems to have come to a decision.
“Well, in that case”—she extends her hand—“my name is Scylla, and I am a daughter of Hades.”
Raelle meets those blue eyes—containing multitudes, containing secrets and promises and dangers she doesn’t think she’s prepared to face—and makes a decision herself. “And I am Raelle, daughter of Zeus.”
She takes Scylla’s hand, and the universe begins anew.