Old Story Compilation

Calypso fanfiction: (part two)

(A/N: Sorry in advance - I had Gaea's voice italicized in the original copy of this, but Qfeast didn't keep that. So this might be a tad confusing.)

I need something else to do.
Sure, gardening is fun. And so’s weaving. But after three thousand years of not much else besides those two activities, they’re becoming monotonous.
I glance around my garden, hoping for inspiration. Raspberries and blackberries grow on thorny vines beside a grove of papyrus stems. Yellow marigolds and lavenders and hibiscuses crowd around a cherry tree. Stones are scattered throughout the whole garden.
An idea forms. I start to hurry around the garden, plucking some plants and petals and roots from just about everywhere. I finally settle down on a rock with a fairly widespread assortment of colorful flowers. I start grinding the petals and roots, then mixing different colors with some egg yolks that I stole from the kitchen.
When I’m done, I smile at my artwork. I have made the first paints ever on Ogygia.
I grab a long, slim stem to use as a brush and start painting patterns and pictures on the stones paving the courtyard. Some of the paints are a bit grainy, and some turn out a different color than I expected, but all in all, it looks pretty good.
“You paint?”
I spin. A few feet away is the boy. He stares at my artwork like he’s never seen such a thing.
“First time. What do you want?” I swipe the brush in a wave with a royal blue.
“Oh, um… I was just wondering if you knew how long I’ve been here. Like, if you had a calendar, or something…”
I sigh. “I can’t say how long it’s been. Time is very difficult here. It could’ve been ten seconds in your world, or ten years.”
He huffs. “There’s got to be some way to tell time!”
I shake my head. “There’s not a way to solve everything… What’s your name?”
“Leo Valdez.”
Leo. Somehow, having a name to put to his face makes him seem more real.
“Well, Leo Valdez. There’s not a way to solve everything.” I turn back to the stone and paint long, wavy, thin strokes with a deep purple.
“Every problem has a fix,” he quotes himself. “I’ll find a way.”
Whistling, he turns and marches out of my garden and towards the beach.
“Stupid boy,” I mutter, turning back to my painting with a dab of green to complete the ocean scene.

---

Over. Under. Over. Under. Over. Under. Repeat.
I shuttle the threads through each other as quickly as I can, humming to endow magical properties. When I’m done, I’ll have a self-cleaning red dress that’s impossible to trip over.
Clang.
I slow my weaving and stop humming. What is that?
Clang.
The screech of metal on metal sends goosebumps up my arms.
CLANG!
The noise is more insistent this time, like someone is hammering. Gods, is that Leo? He must be a son of Hephaestus.
I scowl and turn back to my loom, attempting to ignore the racket and keep singing.
That works for a few minutes.
“That is it!”
I stomp out of the cave in search of Leo.

---

Finally.
I completed the red dress a few nights ago, afterwards starting on a project for Leo. He was making me too much work, burning through his clothes like that. So I wove him some fireproof clothes -- that would clean themselves, too, because his other clothes stank. As an added bonus, I used my mirror to see into his past. His new outfit exactly matched what he had been wearing his first day at Camp Half-Blood.
I grab the army jacket, jeans, and t-shirt and head outside. The sun reaches through the tree branches, making beautiful patterns across my painted rocks. A light breeze wafts through, bringing with it the smell of a hundred different flowers. The path that weaves through the trees is sprinkled with sand.
Leo has apparently decided to live in a workshop. Just a ways off on the beach is a brick forge with a lean-to style tent perched against it. Smoke steams from the top, gushing out like a geyser. The sound of hammering makes my eardrums rattle.
I poke my head inside. “I brought you--”
Leo jumps a mile high, dropping a bunch of wires. “Bronze bulls, girl! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“I wasn’t sneaking. I was bringing you these,” I protest, holding out the outfit.
He stares at them like I just made them out of thin air. “How?”
I toss the clothes at him. “I do have a little magic, you know. You keep burning through the clothes I give you, so I thought I would weave something a little less flammable.”
“These won’t burn?” He picks up the jeans and rubs his fingers across the material.
“They are completely fireproof,” I confirm. “They’ll stay clean and expand to fit you, should you ever become less scrawny.”
“Thanks,” he says. I can’t quite tell if he’s sarcastic or impressed. “So...you made an exact replica of my favorite outfit. Did you, like, google me or something?”
I frown. “I don’t know that word.”
“You looked me up. Almost like you had some interest in me.”
I almost roll my eyes. “I have an interest in not making you new clothes every other day. I have an interest in your not smelling so bad and walking around my island in smoldering rags.”
“Oh, yeah,” Leo grins. “You’re really warming up to me.”
Blood rushes to my face. Just when I thought he might be half-civilized. “You are the most insufferable person I have ever met! I was only returning a favor. You fixed my fountain.” That’s true. It had been making a strange, annoying ticking noise for no apparent reason. I had wanted to scream from frustration.
“That?” Leo laughs. Insufferable. “That was no big deal. I don’t like it when things don’t work right.”
Well then. “And the curtains across the cave entrance?”
“The rod wasn’t level.”
“And my gardening tools?”
“Look, I just sharpened the shears. Cutting vines with a dull blade is dangerous. And the pruners needed to be oiled at the hinge, and--”
I do my best imitation of his grin. “Oh, yeah. You’re really warming up to me.”
I have rendered him speechless. I hold back the urge to grin for real.
Instead, I point at his worktable. “What are you building?”
He looks at a bronze mirror propped against a wall. “Oh. Uh, it’s a seeing device. We found one like this in Rome, in the workshop of Archimedes. If I can make it work, maybe I can find out what’s going on with my friends.”
I shake my head. “That’s impossible. This island is hidden, cut off from the world by strong magic. Time doesn’t even flow the same here.”
He runs a hand through his dirty, oily black hair. “Well, you’ve got to have some kind of outside contact. How did you know that I used to wear an army jacket?”
“Seeing the past is simple magic. Seeing the present or the future--that is not.”
“Yeah, well. Watch and learn, Sunshine,” he says, sending a flicker of annoyance through me at the nickname. “I just connect these last two wires, and--”
He connects said wires. Sparks shower from the mirror. One lands on Leo’s current, un-fireproofed sleeve. It races up his arm, and he pulls the shirt off, throws it onto the ground, and stomps on it. I try not to laugh.
“Not a word,” he warns.
I stifle another giggle, glancing at his sweaty, bony, and scarred chest. “Nothing worth commenting on. If you want that device, maybe you should try a musical invocation.”
“Right,” Leo snorts. “Whenever an engine malfunctions, I like to tap-dance around it. Works every time.”
I hold back another eye roll and sing.
Leo stares. I finally stop when the awkwardness gets to be too much. “Any luck?” I ask.
“Uh…” He slowly turns to face the mirror. “Nothing. Wait…”
The bronze glows, and images spark to life on the screen.
What I assume to be Camp Half-Blood appears first. Demigods are everywhere; passing out armor and weapons, shouting orders, racing to get things done. Chiron, son of Kronos, trots through the ranks of campers, armed with bronze and determination. Greek triremes guard from the sea, catapults man the hills, and pegasi scout the air.
“Your friends?” I ask.
Leo nods numbly. “They’re preparing for war.”
I make a conscious effort to not say duh. “Against whom?”
“Look,” is his only response.
The scene changes. A pack of Roman demigods march through a dark vineyard illuminated only by the light of a waning moon. The only thing to identify the spot is a huge block in the distance with magical, glowing letters that read: GOLDSMITH WINERY.
“I’ve seen that before,” Leo says. “It’s not far from Camp Half-Blood.”
A bunch of Romans are near a Greek camp? Have the gods gone insane?
I suppose that the situation is dire enough, although their plan is obviously backfiring.
Chaos descends, suddenly and strategically. Little, unidentifiable blobs race through the crowd, grabbing weapons, knocking demigods to the ground, and eluding every threatening strike.
“Those beautiful little troublemakers! They kept their promise!” Leo grins.
I look more closely at the shadows. “Cousins of yours?”
“Ha, ha, ha, no. Couple of dwarfs I met in Bologna. I sent them to slow down the Romans, and they’re doing it.”
“But for how long?”
My question hangs in the air, unanswered, as the scene changes. A boy with skinny, wolfish features, blond hair, and strange-looking animals strapped around his waist is standing on a huge stone slab. It’s marked with a strange pattern of bright yellow lines. Nearby, a short, squat building with a humongous porch and glowing letters that spell “Superquik” sits, surrounded by black boxes with wheels and darkened windows. Roman demigods circle the boy, who holds up a tall pole wrapped in canvas. He uncovers it, showing a glimmering, golden eagle.
“Oh, that’s not good,” Leo mutters.
“A Roman standard,” I note.
“Yeah. And this one shoots lightning, according to Percy.”
Percy. A modernized version of Perseus, meaning “destroyer.” You got that right.
I take a deep breath and shove all of those emotions back. They’re not important right now.
The image changes again. A Roman girl with long, flowing black hair is riding a pegasus through a stormy sky. The pegasus’s expression is wild, but somehow the girl keeps it under control. A gryphon attacks, and she slashes it down. Several venti appear, and she charges.
The screen goes black.
“No!” Leo shouts, banging on the mirror. “No, not now. Show me what happens! Calypso, can you sing again or something?”
I glare. He never mentioned having any special girl back home. I suppose I should’ve asked. “I suppose that is your girlfriend? Your Penelope? Your Elizabeth? Your Annabeth?”
“What?” Leo says, the look on his face utterly confused. “That’s Reyna. She’s not my girlfriend! I need to see more! I need--”
NEED. The voice rumbles from the very earth. The ground shifts, and I stumble backwards.
NEED is an overused word. Gaea herself swirls from the ground, her sleeping expression more malicious than peaceful.
Leo uselessly throws a pair of pliers at her. They get sucked into the vortex of dirt before spitting back out of her side.
You want to live. You want to join your friends. But you do not need this, my poor boy. It would make no difference. Your friends will die, regardless.
“What I don’t need,” Leo growls, his knees knocking, “is more lies from you, dirt face. You told me my great-granddad died in the 1960s. Wrong! You told me I couldn’t save my friends in Rome. Wrong! You told me a lot of things.”
She tells everyone a lot of things.
Gaea laughs. It’s nice and yet wrong, somehow, at the same time.
I tried to help you make better choices. You could have saved yourself. But you defied me at every step. You built your ship. You joined that foolish quest. Now you are trapped here, helpless, while the mortal world dies.
Leo had defied Gaea? A newfound sort of respect sparks to life somewhere inside me.
His shaking hands burst into flame. I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“Gaea,” I do my best attempt at a scolding voice aimed at my grandmother. “You are not welcome.”
Ah, Calypso. Gaea’s arms reach towards me. Still here, I see, despite the gods’ promises. Why do you think that is, my dear grandchild? Are the Olypmians being spiteful, leaving you with no company except this undergrown fool? Or have they simply forgotten you, because you are not worth their time? Yes. The Olympians are faithless. They do not give second chances. Why do you hold out hope? You supported your father, Atlas, in his great war. You knew that the gods must be destroyed. Why do you hesitate now? I offer you a chance that Zeus would never give you.
I take a deep breath. “Where were you these last three thousand years? If you are so concerned with my fate, why visit me only now?”
The earth is slow to wake. War comes in its own time. But do not think it will pass you by on Ogygia. When I remake the world, this prison will be destroyed as well.
“Ogygia destroyed?” It takes me a moment to realize that I actually said that out loud. Ogygia is my home. I don’t want it to be destroyed.
You do not have to be here when that happens, Gaea promises. Join me now. Kill this boy. Spill his blood upon the earth, and help me to wake. I will free you and grant you any wish. Freedom. Revenge against the gods. Would you still have the demigod Percy Jackson? I will spare him for you. I will raise him from Tartarus. He will be yours to punish or love, as you choose. Only kill this trespassing boy. Show your loyalty.
First thought: Percy Jackson is in Tartarus?
Second thought: What kind of person does she think I am?
I cross three fingers across my heart and point them at her, the ancient Greek ward against evil. “This is not just my prison, Grandmother. It is my home. And you are the trespasser.”
Gaea’s form collapses into the dust. Leo clears his throat hesitantly.
“Uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but you didn’t kill me. Are you crazy?”
I clench my fists. “Your friends must need you, or else Gaea would not ask for your death.”
“I--uh, yeah, I guess.”
“Then we have work to do. Let’s get you back to your ship.”