chapter two

the knife in which i cut my tongue

Who do you have to love you?

It was a simple question with what should be a relatively simple answer. Arden knew who was supposed to love her, she knew that they tried. But she also knew that they shouldn't. They should not love and care for someone so volatile in nature, so lenient with their morals and careless with their temper. Or maybe they did love her, maybe for all of those horrid reasons; but loving a monster does not change its nature and apart of her had realised long ago the loving her was nothing short of a death sentence.

Because loving Arden was like loving the riptide, and the riptide only existed for two things; to destroy and to punish.

"Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of horses. Hail Arden Jackson, daughter of the Sea God."

Stormbringer.

She could almost taste it along the horizon.

Arden rolled the question around on her tongue for a while before ultimately spitting it out. She didn't need love, not even if her tainted bones craved it. Because she craved lots of things, and it's not like she could control what she lusted for, that was a job for the burning stones in the sky. They were the ones insistent on keeping Arden flawed and hungry and everlasting, as if she were an old folk song on the lips of whiskey coated tongues, passed down through generation upon generation. A rather frightening foreign fable.

It was twisting her into a weapon, one of mass destruction no doubt.

But weapons, they do not weep.

The blood-thirst that had clouded her sense had passed in the night, the scorching flame reduced to nothing but a timid ember. Arden was drowning in her own sorrow, the reluctant come down of the high. There was only a bone-deep weariness left. Her eyelashes were stuck together with misery, it was all she was. This ocean gripped her with a familiar fragile finger, a cold hand pressed heavy against her throat squeezing, begging to pick apart her soul like pieces of frail sand slipping beneath the sea foam.

And really, it was a toothless sort of heartache, for it felt more a pretence to show Annabeth that she was sad. Arden wasn't sad, she was bitter and longed to spit words from her mouth rather than become a withered shell of a human being just like her.

But alas, there was no idiotic brother to lash out at, no half-groggy and messy-haired twin to throw vocal punches at in the early hours of the morn. Arden had always held onto things that hurt her a little too tightly, as if a comforting form of control, as if she loved to feel the kiss of a blade against her neck, as if to feel some kind of cursed chaos.

That was the only thing left. But beneath it all there was a calculation. The universe knew what it was doing when it had thrown Arden to the wind. It knew what it was doing when it created a hunger, a desire, so restless in her stomach it left bruises along her womb. It was maddening, this creature inside of her, it clawed at her stomach with beaks blunt and nails sharp.

This chaos, it was purposeful.

Chaos is madness and madness is just another form of power, albeit a rather ugly creature but still, one that bore the crest of fairness and ferocity all the same.

And whilst Arden had never cared much for power, it still rumbled in her bones. Power and love were the same, maybe if she couldn't be loved she could be powerful, mighty or even feared. The sea knew it long before she did, that she was going to trade affection for perfection, become the monsters she fought, become frightening, scary even.

It was just a matter of when.

And this madness, this howling hunger for power and chaos, it was a delicate secret between her and the early morning stillness.

Dawn provided her with a moment of clarity, the air was always sweetest at this time. Long before the machines started turning and the city rose from its subtle slumber. Sure, their neighbourhood was restless but there were times where it loosened every now and and again.

She was blind to the light, yet she longed for its gentle touch. Sometimes the darkness behind her eyelids was a little too real. Arden felt suffocated by phantoms and stolen friends that plagued her nightmares, fairytales danced a deadly tango in her sleep. They mingled and gossiped like they were some form of godly fucking royalty during solstice celebrations. Arden hardly knew peace, not properly. And it seemed that with her brother gone, and as good as dead, it was one more thing she had been robbed of.

These weren't surface wounds; they were bone deep.

Arden was half-asleep and bleary-eyed when the gold decided to show its smile and flicker through the window, landing on Annabeth's soft curls. The girl laid beside her in a light sleep that seemed to never commit. But it was okay, it was morning now, her eyes cloud flutter open without guilt.

"Did you sleep?" Annabeth asked in a gentle whisper.

She was the kind of girl to ask the obvious questions, even when she already knew the answer, but she did it anyway just to make her loved ones feel appreciated. Arden felt as though there was a whole other world of things that only Annabeth knew, and after years of friendship Arden was only just grazing the tip of the iceberg.

Her mouth was all but venomous with silence, it lingered for a while, before the rise and fall of her very own chest was too much to bear and she defeatedly gave in to the deafening cloud. Arden's voice was a soft hum, and her eyes were barely open when she responded. "Ask the purple bags beneath my eyes, I hope at least they got some sort of rest."

"I have colour corrector in my bag." Annabeth reached up an arm, it waved around in the air for a moment before falling down lazily across Arden's side.

"Are you insulting them?" Arden pouted, and Annabeth could only tell because she knew by the tone of her voice, the face she would be met with if she opened her eyes.

"Of course, I am," Annabeth murmured, sleep on her tongue. "They're too pretty to be a result of such a tragedy."

Arden felt a grin run across her face, it was a childish grin too, one she had not felt for a long time. It was one of those smiles so rare, it only ever showed itself to the blind. "You can't even see them; your eyes are closed."

"Are they?"

Arden dared open her eyes for a flicker of a second, she caught sight of Annabeth's soft grin before closing them quickly once more and smiling to herself. "It's too early in the morning to be talking."

"But not too early for compliments." Annabeth giggled lightly, her voice was a songbird, so tender it threatened to break the sky in two.

"Oh, it's never too early for those Annie."

Annabeth grinned at her remark before scrunching her nose up tight. "It's also never too early to brush your teeth, you have morning breath it's gross."

"Aren't you just a bundle of sunshine." Arden remarked as she finally allowed her eyes to remain open, open to the light and open to her.

Annabeth chuckled, it was airy and full of a reminiscent tease. "For you Arden, always."

It was silent for a moment, a dreadfully quiet moment, it stretched itself thin with tension and ached to be broken. The void begged them to talk, to think, to remember everything about him. About how he was gone, how they were sleeping on his side of the room. It was Annabeth that took the task into her own hands. "You're supposed to get up now. When people say they'll do things they usually do them."

"But I'm tired!" Arden whined; her eyelids pleaded with her cheeks for some sort of rest. "Can't we just go back to restless sleep?"

"No." Annabeth insisted, her tone, it was final and direct.

Arden frowned. "No?"

"I don't know," Annabeth relented, releasing her worries from the iron entrapped cell in her mind. "We should probably go to school."

"I'm failing half my classes what does it matter?" Arden mumbled, she was tired and when she was tired, she was careless with her words, she would have paid more attention to the way she spoke if not for the weariness of her state.

"That's exactly the reason it does." Annabeth frowned, her eyes were stormy when they met the ocean, glaring into the girl before her with annoyance. Arden had the nerve to look bashful. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh Annie," Arden turned away, midnight hair falling across her face as the sun danced with her hair. She was never good at meeting Annabeth's gaze, not when she was like this, a thunderstorm of sleepy anger. "I never like burdening you."

"You are a fucking burden." Annabeth chided, "But you're my burden you idiot."

Arden looked back at her, resting herself up on her elbows as her skin caught the sun. It glowed across her face, highlighting her in warmth for a moment, before a cloud passed and Annabeth could finally breathe again. "Oh, cause there's a colossal difference?" Arden asked, snarky and full of sarcasm.

Annabeth resisted the urge to throttle her, "Yes there is, now get up."

"Uh-huh or what?" Arden challenged, she was kidding of course, teasing, but it warranted the same reaction from the wise girl that they both anticipated.

"Get up! Or, I'll have to find some way to surprise you." Annabeth bellowed, it was loud, but it was full of light.

"Ohhh, like a present?" Arden tutted, pouting her rosy lips. "Or maybe a party?"

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "I meant more along the lines of something violent, like I'm gonna punch you or something."

Arden smirked, "Or something? Sweet sweet Annie what do you mean by that exactly?"

"Oh, you would never guess." Annabeth sat up and stretched, the t-shirt she was wearing riding up at the sides to reveal her pale torso. Gazing across at Arden, Annabeth made a split-second decision.

Arden closed her eyes as she laughed. "Oh yeah? Tr--owwwwww!"

She hit her.

With a pillow but it was still a hit nonetheless, and Annabeth, it seemed, was not fond of relenting or releasing her grip as she continued to thwack the girl beside her.

"What the fuck was that for?"

"For not listening to me."

"So, I'm being punished, my day keeps getting better." Arden yelled as she tried to block the hits that came down fast.

Annabeth's grin was wide, there was an air of serenity surrounding her this morning that neither of them had expected. "It's only eight."

"Yeah, and I'm looking forward to calling it a night at noon." Arden grumbled, trying her best to sit up beneath the attacks of fluff. "You know what, I swear on the gods Annie if you hit me with that pillow one more time, I'll kill you in your sleep how's that for surprising?"

"Don't make me throw you in the Styx Arden, it would be a waste." Annabeth snarked.

Arden gasped as she tried to rip the pillow from her hands. "You know what you sound like my mother."

"I do not." Annabeth bit back, holding on tightly to the makeshift weapon.

Arden gritted her teeth. "Yes, you do!"

Lavender encompassed the rooming, bringing the boiling temperature down to a simmer. "I thought I heard yelling; Arden are you alright?" Sally asked, her eyes tired, voice worried.

Sally looked exhausted, and just about ready to collapse in on herself in woe. The violet beneath her eyes told Arden as such. Percy was gone and it was utter agony, the only piece of herself left to stand for was Arden. Her daughter who frowned immediately when she caught sight of her. "Why do assume it's me that's not alright?"

"Because she knows I could beat you." Annabeth smirked.

Arden narrowed her eyes. "Could, you haven't yet."

"Are you sure about that?" Annabeth gleamed, holding the pillow with a victorious smile. "Don't worry Sally it's nothing too violent."

Sally let out half a laugh, and it was nice, it was simple, it felt easy, but it was riddled with a particular prolonged sadness that stretched on into a dull silence. It faded into a ghost, dancing with the dust illuminated by the sun.

Arden grumbled beneath her breath as she rolled her eyes. "Yet."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!"

Annabeth sighed, a soft sigh. Putting the pillow down and making her way off of the bed. The sun seemed to follow her as she walked, twinkling in her aura long after she left the room. With Annabeth gone the space seemed tighter, constricting tightly was the breath Arden longed to release from her heavy led-riddled chest.

Arden sat there on the bed, messy-haired and bare-faced, picking at the cotton of the sheets. Sally let her gloom slip in, just a touch as she made her way towards her daughter. "I heard the words school and failing? Care to explain Jellybean?"

Arden rolled her eyes at the childhood nickname. "No."

"No?" Sally's eyebrows rose.

Biting her lower lip, Arden avoided her mother's gaze, one look at her mother and she would break into a million pieces. It was a grey conversation, one of simplicity and normalcy. But right now, Arden didn't feel normal, how could she? And despite a plain distraction Arden despised the calm unspoken. "Are you gonna make us go?"

"Don't worry about school right now, I'll call them." Sally made her way to Arden, tenderly sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing back Arden's messy hair. Arden's skin was cold to the touch, her olive-skinned complexion had become paler as the days without him went on. Her hard exterior was cracking, and whilst most times Sally would rejoice, it was not a cause for celebration. Not when instead of the heart of gold Sally knew Arden possessed, an obsidian skeleton was the most present.

Arden's breath was shaky, she hid it well, but nothing escaped her mother's eye. "I'm failing history."

"History of all things?" Sally frowned at that, Arden was a bright girl, just a little angry and a little unfocused.

The girl giggled under her breath, it wasn't an amusing laugh but one out of pure necessity, Arden needed to laugh, if only to feel sane for a moment. "Yes, I love it so much I guess I don't even try anymore."

"We'll work on that later, together." As a family, she wanted to say; that's what they normally did, but the words lingered in the air afterwards, a sour aroma encompassing them with unwelcome arms.

Arden brushed over it, like she had learned to do with many things. She buried it deep, the sting of the bruise. "My eyes don't help either."

They both knew she wasn't talking about her vision, but rather the learning difficulties most demigods struggled with. Sally's shoulders dropped, her fragile hands reaching out to cup her daughters face in between her palms.

"It does not do well to dwell on things we cannot change, you'll get wrinkles before your time, Jellybean." Sally spoke in a tender whisper.

Closing her eyes, Arden leaned into her touch. "I already have some, they're invisible but they're there."

"Where?" Sally asked gingerly.

Arden sighed, it slipped through her skeleton like she was shaking off a cold shiver. "Above my brow."

Sally kissed her forehead tenderly, "There, all better."

The moment, it was sweet, it was comforting, warm, but beneath it all was a simmering bitterness. One that lined the walls of the room and trapped them to their very spots. Arden despised him for it.

He had ruined everything.

"You look like you need some fresh air." Sally remarked taking a closer examination at Arden's skin. "It'll be good for you."

"Maybe..." Arden drawled, blinking tiredly. "How much good would that do?"

Sally rolled her eyes; the girl was as stubborn as a bull and she had most definitely gotten it from her father. "It's better than sitting here, in this room and withering away."

"What if I want to wither?" She pouted, brushing hair from her eyes.

"No one wants to wither Arden." Sally chided before getting up and brushing off her clothes. Gazing down at her daughter she allowed her shoulders to droop. "If you don't go out for yourself at least do it for me?"

Ancient Greek rolled off Arden's tongue in a tease. "Manipulative witch."

Sally laughed; it was a hearty laugh at that. A laugh full of golden reflections and warm sunshine. She understood, there were few phrases she had picked up on throughout the years. "I'll be plenty manipulative if it means you both get some sun."

Annabeth strolled back in, fresh faced with a toothbrush in hand, "Sun?"

"Yeah, it's this big fiery molten rock in the sky, ever heard of it?" Arden quipped.

"It's a star, actually." Annabeth said through a mouthful of toothpaste.

Sally smiled. "I was just saying to the little hermit how it would be good for you both to go somewhere, how about the cinema?"

Arden shot a look at Annabeth, both girls freezing in place before subtly looking away. Oh Sally, she would have half a heart attack if she knew what they really meant whenever they said that, what Percy's job really was. Which wasn't so much an usher as it was battering a random guys face in every other night for some quick cash to help pay the bills.

Arden felt a pang hit her heart so forcefully she wore it stopped beating for a moment. "Um-"

"Sure, that sounds like fun, doesn't it?" Annabeth interrupted with a grin. There was a flicker in her eyes, unnoticeable but Arden could recognise it anywhere and knew when to agree with the girl.

"I suppose." Arden agreed delicately, forcing a smile upon her stiff face.

It wasn't hard to convince Sally, after all there was nothing to hide from, Sally was none the wiser of their dangerous curricular activities that brought them broken bones, bruises and blood-money alike. "Great, go have fun!" Sally smiled fondly. "Your skin could use it."

"Are you calling me ugly?" Arden asked.

"My dear you are nothing of the sort" Sally said with a roll of her eyes.

Annabeth snorted. "Lying is a sin Sally."

"Oh, you're right I must go repent." Sally played along before leaving the room, Annabeth in tow.

"I hate you both!" Arden shouted, collapsing on the bed in a messy array of equal parts misery and serenity.

By the tender age of sixteen, Arden knew only of three things for certain. One; it was better to be more ghost than human, two; people didn't care for their loose lips around pretty girls with nice smiles, and last but rather the most important; in this world it was either kill or be killed. Metaphorically or in Arden's case, rather literally.

Which meant staying atop your game.

Sharpening your sword until your reflection gleams and blistering your hands on punching bags, there was always a reason to continue to fight. At the very core essential survival instincts kick in and sometimes, they're not enough. Arden knew that very fact first-hand, they all did, it didn't matter how badly you wanted to live, fate was fate. And despite the yearning to break down the wall, break through the seal of destiny, destiny, like all timeless things, was rooted in heartache and misery.

So, they bled, and they cried, and they tasted silver until their bodies greeting them with some sick, twisted, perverted form of pride. A deadly sin that tasted oh so sweet on the tips of blades and in the aftermath of battle. To dance a gruesome dance with death and still come out victorious was what most demigods strived for, and Arden, she was no different.

Plucked from girlhood and placed into the awaiting hands of greed, Arden had learned rather early on that being a pretty girl was of the most advantageous in a lifestyle like hers. And whilst gods and monsters were fickle contrasting ugly beings, they alike, found beauty a source of both pleasure and security.

To wield beauty as a weapon was not uncommon for demigods, yet Arden had seemingly mastered the skill, her calloused fingers painted to perfection told her as such. It was her security, when fighting got a little too tiresome and when battle whittled her soul to a splinter. Her sword was not that of a sharp blade, not nearly as stained as one either, but like a knife, it was pretty and blinding and distracting.

And so, because of this Arden, whilst unfortunately drawing attention to herself, was able to twist the image and keep Annabeth out of the spotlight, to barter and bet and do all things practical, as she posed as the distracting figure in their usual trio. But their trio was not complete, their main fighter was out of the game, benched, missing, possibly dead.

That little fucker.

The Ring of Circe, a rather ironic name for a 'demigod hangout', sat nestled between a square of large buildings in Lower Manhattan. It was tucked between a charming old school diner, a shop that sold overpriced donuts, popcorn and candy alike, and a music hall where up and coming bands played every night.

And although none of the buildings were large enough to reach the clouds, not like further in the heart of the city, they were still the tallest in the square. Naturally, the Ring of Circe warranted a decent amount of attention, luckily the attention was from mortals rather than the supernatural the trio had expected upon first viewing at the delicate age of fourteen.

The boxing ring held a lot of history, not just for the opponents and betters but for the Jackson twins as well. Because at the heart of it, scars do not make themselves, it was hard work that kept them pushing, hungry, afloat, despite the advantages of their parental lineage.

Because really, it wasn't like both Arden and Percy weren't prone to humility.

They were the children of a hard-working mother who did everything to provide for them. Even before they discovered their father and their 'demigod royalty' status, they were fighters, warriors, survivors. They were from a far less respectable place than most at Goode. They were a fragrant part of the troubled youth that roamed the streets of New York City and it wasn't that hard to recognise.

"I still can't believe you punched her." Annabeth began as they made their way into a line. Nightfall had quickly captured the girls as they darted across the street, leaving the old cinema behind them.

"What?" Arden asked, the night breeze carried nothing but a hint of sin and danger. It brushed by her glittering dress and soft waves of hair, a fondness of nature swirling.

"Lucia, isn't it?" Annabeth grinned, it was cat like, she was proud. "She deserves it after all that shit she used to put you through when you went to the same school, what was it called again?"

"I honestly can't remember." Arden frowned, fishing her ticket out her bag. Eager to change the subject before the blonde noticed that her fist held no bruise or blemish and that she hadn't actually punched the girl but had rather made her bleed... with her brain.

She could think about that later.

"Do you think Yaz and Maggie will be inside?" Arden asked.

Annabeth rolled her eyes as she handed over their tickets to the guy at the booth. "I doubt it, they've probably wandered off into the sunset together or more likely mistook the bright lights for it and have gotten themselves run over."

"They would make such pretty roadkill." Arden grinned as they passed by band posters and trailed down the sin infused alley. "Well, we'll just hope they're still at camp then."

"I'm sure they are." Annabeth assured her. "Anyway, stop avoiding the subject. You punched her and I didn't get to see it. I'll pay you to do it where I actually can."

Passing a few teenagers and hordes of anxious men, Arden turned her head beneath the dim lights as they made it through the arena. "Oh, really how much?" Arden asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Digging for gold, are we?" Annabeth retorted.

"What do you think of me, of course I am." Arden said, loudly, faux-offended. The concrete beneath their feet seemed to hum, the crowd was restless around them and despite a regular weekly occurrence, Arden found the lively atmosphere rather dull and bleak without her brother in the centre.

Fist to fist, the men in the ring fought with such vigour it was uncertain who the victor ought to be. Squished in the second row, their view of the fight was slightly hazy, yet still they could make out the twitches and giveaways of the opponents, a perk from their heritage.

The man on the right was a rough man, one with scars and tattoos adorning his bulky body, on the left was the other; slightly taller and slimmer in size, but faster and with one tremor of the shorter man's wrist the girls could tell winner from loser. It seemed the taller man could too as a grin stretched wide across his face.

Arden could feel the anxiety radiate from the men that surrounded them, newcomers stared at her exposed legs whilst the regulars recognised and kept their gazes firmly appointed on the match. They knew of her, they knew of her brother, with both fascination and fear they knew better than to attempt a conversation with the girl. It was no secret what had happened to the last man to try that.

Two words: knife and tongue.

They waited, all of them, adrenaline running through their veins as they cheered the fighters on, cursed at them, threw popcorn and yelled. It was unruly, it was chaotic, it was madness and normally it would've sent a smile to Arden's face despite her joy for less convoluted places. But it didn't, because the taller man was winning and all Arden could think about was the fact that her brother, if here, if alive, would have taken him out long before the final bell rang.

And whilst the high of the round left a thrill in the air, Arden sat eating her popcorn with a bored expression. They were three rounds into the next match when Annabeth eventually drew her eyes from the fight and flickered them over to the open entrance where the music played.

It could be heard throughout the arena, blasting their air-drums and goading the men on. Enticing them all to spend more money, bask in the atmosphere and drink in the livelihood of blood, sweat and tears. It was Annabeth who recognised the band. The sultry tone, the bass and the guitar and the voice. She could almost picture the head of dark curly hair that sung with such raspiness.

"Oh my gods!" Annabeth exclaimed, it was loud over the noise and it caused Arden to flinch back in confusion.

Holding her ear, Arden responded with a grimace. "Oh my gods what?"

"Guess who I spy." Annabeth said, her blonde curls whipping behind her as she turned to the girl by her side.

"Who? Don't tell me it's the hot priest again, that's no fair." Arden pouted with a whine, shoving popcorn into her mouth.

Annabeth's laugh was light in the darkness. "And how isn't it fair?"

"Because..." Arden trailed off, trying to spot the person Annabeth had.

"You can't fuck him!" Annabeth scolded.

Arden opened her mouth, unable to contain the small grin, in order to quickly dispute her worries. "I would never Annie! He's a priest stop talking like that."

"Yeah, and if you had anything to do with it, he'd be on his knees begging his god for redemption before the night is over." Annabeth said before standing up, her short skirt accentuating her waist.

"Are you sure it'll be god he gets on his knees for?" Arden said.

"What was that?"

"Nothing you want to hear." Arden called out from behind her. "Who did you see?"

She was met with only a giggle and a clasp of her hand. The boxing ring could wait Annabeth decided, dragging Arden by her arm and through the crowd, into a different establishment altogether. The bass was louder as they weaved through the sea of people, bright lights greeted them as they entered the venue.

The Garden of Eden was warmer than the boxing arena, the air seemed to swirl with a particular shimmer and sheen to it. Arden supposed that had to do with the magnitude of people pouring in and out, the alcohol, the glitter, the music. It was gleaming, and really it was an alluring, deceiving sort of thing. It was blinding and distracting as the neon lights illuminated swallowed them whole.

There were far less dirty men on these sides of the buildings, more teenagers and less parental guidance, some smoking and some drinking but all were moving their bodies, nodding their heads and dancing away to the beat.

Sweat shimmered atop her brow as she frowned. The scene warm and ravaging and full of lust and music. Passing by another poster Arden felt her blood run cold at the sight of it, at the sight of him. "I don't want to go in there." She gritted out.

Annabeth protested with a roll of her eyes and a tug of Arden's arm. "Well, I do."

"You like this kind of music?" Arden scoffed, eyeing the boy on the wall. He was, dare she say it, attractive, in the objective sense at least. The dark hair highlighted his eyes and the camera seemed to capture a certain look in his eyes. And beneath the dark clothes and the glitter, he looked like a Rockstar. So unlike the boy she knew in the hallway, it was vaguely disarming, how different he looked.

Arden didn't know him like that, though, she supposed she didn't really know him at all. Save a few hostile conversations in the dimly lit apartment building, Arden realised she had never seen him before. Not like this. Not with unruly hair and a smirk, not with professionally lit photos. And she most definitely hadn't heard his voice enticing and all sorts of dangerous.

"Yes, and I've seen your record collection, you do too, come on." Annabeth said with an underlying all-knowing smile, examining her friend.

Her body was stiff, taught, the dress she wore catching the lights every once in a while. It shadowed a glow around her body, beneath the moonlight Arden seemed to come alive, her blood wild and chaotic. Annabeth could feel it in her very bones.

"The things I do for you." Arden groaned, pushing her shoulders back and holding her chin up high she allowed Annabeth to pull them both forwards.

"It's not all bad," Annabeth convinced with hearty laughter, dragging them both through the crowd and closer to the stage. "With any luck she'll be here too, then you can get your money after apologising."

"Apologise for what? The troll deserved it." Arden said, malice tinging her tongue as a pout formed on her rosy lips.

"Not for punching her, the slut shaming." Annabeth stated, before ruffling the girl's wavy hair. "Bad Arden."

Swatting her hands away, Arden frowned, adjusting her messy hair as she willed herself to keep her cool. "Okay, maybe I feel bad about that but still, it doesn't matter, I'm not apologising."

"Oh, you definitely are." Annabeth said.

Before she had a chance to respond, before she had a chance to breathe, the air seemed to have been stolen. Ripped from the very space in front of her and catapulted into the veins of her body rather than her lungs. Toxic warfare replacing the oxygen. Her body, it was on fire, and she would never admit it of course, but his voice, his hair, his eyes, they had something to do with it.

It was all, him.

Neo was usually better than this, scratch that, he was always better than this. He had spotted her the moment she entered, like a moth drawn to a flame. Like a delicate bird awaiting the poison, he knew her presence in his very bones. It had distracted him slightly, his guitar falling out of beat for a moment and voice failing him on a tune. The world seemed to shake a little bit as she walked. Or maybe it was his vision, or maybe her dress.

Dear god it was short.

It was short, and it accentuated her legs, it made him mad for a moment. He could bet that she had never been to The Garden of Eden before, not properly, if she had, she'd know better than to wear such a tiny flimsy piece of material. The people in the crowd leaned towards yelling and jumping about, they had a tendency to cheer and sing as much as they booed.

It was no coincidence that his strumming faltered more and more as the dark-haired beauty made her way through the crowd. Each and every fucker foaming at their mouths and turning to gaze at her, as if she were a goddess, as if she were a divine being.

And hell, maybe she was, maybe that could explain the sudden spike in his heartbeat.

Arden seemed to make things difficult for him, breathing, speaking and now singing. Although, it's not like he expected anything less from her, she was pretty, she was intimidating and she was vaguely threatening but, unlike the opinion of Jude and Blaise, she wasn't scary. Or at least Neo wasn't all that scared of her.

She was just another girl, what harm could she do?

He almost chuckled at that, he would be sure to eat his words at some point, he knew that. But this tension between them, it ate away at his skull and his lips and his eyes and his fucking everything. It was raw, unbecoming, it was unfair and there was no reason for it, none at all.

Neo tried to tune back in, focus on anything other than the way his chest picked up speed as her eyes met his. He tried, he really did, for the sake of saving face if anything. But it didn't matter, they had already won their round in battle of the bands, they were just playing for fun now, to show off. This song wasn't nearly as important as the many others that they did their best to profit from.

A red-faced Lucia lingered at the side of the stage, watching, waiting, looking at the way she stared at him. It was so intense Neo could almost feel it on the side of his face. And it stayed there, trapped on him as his eyes met a sea green and pinned her to the spot. A part of him knew Lucia was mad, she was always so whiny about so many little things, and despite being one of his closest friends it didn't stop Neo from baring his soul and his sanity to the firecracker in the crowd.

Neo was singing to her, to Arden, it was intimate he realised, the things he was saying, all sorts of dirty and certainly less than holy fucking things he whispered into the microphone as he drunk her in. Legs, eyes and all.

Maybe it was a flicker of his imagination, but beneath the lights and the atmosphere and the sheer primal desire he felt for her, he swore he saw red crawl across her cheeks. Whether it be from the heat, or whether she was flushed from all the things he wished he was whispering in her ear, only hers, he didn't know. But then one thing he did know, and again, maybe he was fooling himself, was that she felt a similar way about him.

And he wondered this, it wouldn't leave his mind, wouldn't stop pestering him a while after his band played their last song. Some other group replacing them for the rest of the night as they packed up their set and eased their way into the masses of people. Into wherever she had wandered off too.

He had hands all over his body, though in his dreams they weren't just anyone's, he was akin to a chiselled sculpture brought to life. Neo knew what he was, he knew the rumours and the praise, he knew of it all. He mingled with groupies, fans and stage managers alike, but his mind was elsewhere, he was unfocused and there was only one girl to blame.

Neo had noticed her before she noticed him, Jude and Blaise chatting away at something or other whilst his gaze trailed the girl making her way towards them. It sent a grin to his lips, despite happiness sinking into his skin, he was confused to say the least. Though, he didn't think much to question it.

A girl trailed behind her, she was vaguely familiar, and it took him a second to realise the head of blonde curly hair belonged to Annabeth Chase. Despite little conversation and overall acknowledgement of each other, Neo knew her, she was Percy's girl. And although Neo and Percy hadn't ever gotten along like a house on fire, they had certainly been more friendly to each other than Arden and Neo had.

With her it was pulling punches and words like blades, slicing into his chest and battering his body. They never penetrated through though, he didn't care too much for her insults, he wasn't angry in the way she was. Neo didn't let it consume him whole. Rage, anger, he knew, unlike himself, a part of her found beauty in such sins.

Maybe that was why she found it all so hard?

Brushing away his clouded mind, he watched her. She looked good. Arden always looked good. A glimmering black dress, tight-fitting and short, paired with none other than a glimmering pout upon her bee-stung lips, she was the definition of heaven and hell intertwined. She was like the sea, once embedded in his memory he couldn't seem to manage the flood.

Had he said something against her dress before? Never mind. He loved her dress almost as much as he loved her legs. That being said, he couldn't help but notice a lingering sadness that seemed to follow where she walked. It whispered in the cracks of the night and it took Neo a second to realise that what was usually a trio, was lacking a member.

Arden fought off Annabeth's remarks and teasing as she made her way through the crowd. The blonde trailed behind her with drinks in her hands and a Cheshire grin on her lips. Annabeth knew that where Neo went Lucia usually followed, she was excited to say the least.

"I'm not gonna punch her." Arden said before they were in earshot.

"We'll see." Annabeth countered.

Arden couldn't blame them, the followers, the girls who flocked to his side. His smile, it was unholy, for that much she was certain. It wasn't pretty or full of unadulterated sex appeal, it was unearthly beautiful and dangerously divine. Hell, she nearly reached out a hand to dust across his jaw when they reached him.

It wasn't her intended destination, though, he didn't have to know that. With crowds of people, it was hard to make too much conversation, that's why Arden's heart nearly all but leapt from her chest when Neo held out his hand in order to drag them away.

Skin to skin, she was dreaming, surely? It was over in a flash, so quickly she thought it was an accident. And it appeared to be, when he flinched his hand back as if he had been scalded by hot water, maybe that's what she was, a sea on fire Neo decided. Warm to the touch, silky all the same.

He had led them further away from his friends and an eager Annabeth who reluctantly introduced herself, Blaise sending him a discreet smirk over his shoulder and Lucia huffing before leaning into Jude. And it wasn't that Lucia was worried about her, or him, she was more so worried about the fact that her crush was being hit on.

"Came to see me play?" Neo said, leaning back against the wall.

"You were flat." Arden said, and she didn't know why she did it, why she insulted him so full of fire and menace that it sent his eyebrows rising, but she did. Maybe it was some sort of way to cool down the air, his touch had left her reeling so truthfully, the insult wasn't really her fault.

It surprised her, the grin that spread wide across his face and then the laughter that followed. It was melodic, just like when he sang, it was entrancing and kept her body rigid and stuck to the spot. Jesus Christ, she needed something to hold on too.

"Okay, not here for my autograph got it." Neo nodded, hiding his smirk as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "Here to teach me a thing or two about singing then?"

"Well for starters you should warm up your voice, you sounded like a dying cat." Arden was lying at this point, very heavily, they both knew it. She didn't know what was wrong with her, she tucked one hand under her arm when she noticed it shake slightly. Was she nervous?

Why the fuck was she nervous?

His eyes flickered to her lips, wetting his own with anticipation. "I'll be sure to do that next time."

Arden nodded as her eyes followed the movement of his tongue, the dimly light hallway of the music hall tightening in on them. It was even more suffocating when a man passed through them and drew Arden away from her trance.

"Other than my horrific singing, did you like it?" Neo asked, head cocked to the side.

"Sorry?" Arden questioned, distracted as she tried to find something, anything, to do with her shaking hands.

"The music, did you like it?" Neo repeated, crossing his arms, the white of his t-shirt accentuating the muscles that begged to rip free from the cotton.

It took a second for Arden to come back down to earth, she hadn't expected for him to be strong, or at least appear to be. "It was alright, if you're into the whole 'indie rock band' sort of thing."

"And are you?" Neo asked. "Into the whole 'indie rock band' sort of thing?"

"I could be." Arden blinked, with fluttering eyelashes. And beneath the light, beneath the haze, beneath everything, he felt a pull towards her.

Pushing his body from the wall he stepped closer, disregarding the small space and walking forwards until they were toe to toe. Neo didn't think she would move a step back, until she did, and it left his fingers itching with yearning. He was the king, moving her back along the chessboard. She took multiple steps back until her hot, flushed body, hidden behind dainty fabric, was pressed flat against the wall.

"So, what you're saying is that you need some convincing?"

"Not from you." Arden said, well, whispered. There was no need for anything louder with the decreasing space and oxygen between them. He had reduced her to nothing more than a gleam of the light along the hallway. He smelled like warm vanilla, like a cosy book, like a hot cup of coffee and, fucking hell, he smelled like the air after it rained.

It was divine and it was terrifying.

She didn't know what caused the change in him. Neo was always so hot and cold, it startled her. And rightfully so, this thing, whatever the fuck it was that he was doing. Maybe he was drunk, or tired, or in a nightmare or something.

His voice was a low hum. "Not from me hmm?"

"Not from a guy who has a girlfriend." Arden breathed out, doing her best to keep it steady which, was a rather hard feat when a six-foot-three Greek statue of a boy was pressed against the front of her body. She could feel his warm chest on her own, her own that was covered with only the tiniest of glittering, beaded material.

Neo snorted. Adding insult to injury, he found some twisted amusement in what she had said. It made the red on Arden's cheeks hot, not from lust but rather anger and humiliation. Her mouth twisted into a sneer, and he couldn't stop staring at her lips.

"What's so funny?" Arden asked, her tone, it was full of aggression and distaste. As if she had been eating a sour candy.

"I don't have a girlfriend, Blackbird." Neo said bring his arms up to either side of her body, her waist.

Her nose turned up at that nickname. "Blackbird?"

"It's a Beatles song." Neo said. "Anyway, that isn't important."

She chuckled at his words, tossing them around in her head before cementing the fact that the boy in front of her was seemingly heartless. And say what you will about Arden Jackson but the blood in her veins still pumped, warm.

"What about Lucia?"

Neo sighed, looking down for a moment. The sweat on his brow glistening under the lights as his dark curls brushed the top of Arden's forehead. Arden's temper was rather flighty these days, she nearly throttled him for the bloody sake of it.

"Lucia is just my friend." Neo murmured, taking in the sight before him. Her legs, her chest, her lips. He wanted all of it, and he was being patient, but bloody hell did he long to close the distance despite the rumours in his ears that he ought to stay away.

Stay back before you get cut. Arden was a sharp knife after all.

She should've eaten her next words; she should have swallowed them down and buried them where they had no chance of escaping. But instead, she threw them right out to his chest. Two steps forward, one step back. "Well then I pity those who think of you as just a friend."

"You are so hurtful." Neo grinned and fucking hell, it was glorious.

There was something fucking wrong with this guy, Arden thought.

Something seriously wrong with him, who in their right mind would continue to smile so widely. But Neo? He supposed he couldn't really help it, not when she was around that was for certain.

"What do you mean pity, you jealous we're not better friends?" Neo said.

"No, I just don't think it's right if you're leading her on." Arden regained her steady breathing as she lifted her chin up to meet his gaze once more. "She obviously likes you for more than your tiny cock. Do you have a brain up there or is it all just ass and tits?"

Such dirty words should not fall from such pretty lips he decided, though he knew whatever he said would make no difference, and really, it's not like he wanted to stop her.

"It's legs actually, yours in particular." Neo said, and he smiled, like he knew a grave little secret. Staring into her soul, he brushed past any and all flaws with disinterest, the anger feasting on her flesh did little to deter or worry him. 

"I will slap you." Arden spat, feigning as much disgust as she could.

Neo just blinked, his voice husky and low. "Oh, angry girl, I don't doubt it."

There was no rhyme or reason to it, the way her body prickled with electricity. He chuckled into the air and it was enough to part her lips in awe. Her tongue was tied, to the wall, to the bruises, to the music, to anything and everything as Arden was rendered speechless.

"Go on then, have at me." His eyes bored into her own as he spoke with such softness Arden questioned her sanity, but only for a moment before her walls came crawling right back up.

Her hands, delicate and slightly shaky, pressed against his chest. The white t-shirt had been drenched in sweat, she could feel his warmth, his muscles, his body beneath her fingertips. With what little weary strength she still had left in her, Arden pushed him back. Or attempted too.

Neo grabbed her hands in his, holding them steady between their bodies.

"You're such a fucking prick, you know that?" Arden said, angry and wild and messy and downright chaotic.

Her silky hair floating behind her, sprawling across her shoulders in waves of sorrow. Neo could tell that beneath the sadness she seemed to be in a better mood than she was last night, or at least she had been before he enticed her.

"Are you okay?" Neo whispered into her lips.

Arden, still full of a dark malevolence, whispered back. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Maybe I care." Neo said.

"Do me a favour and don't." Arden said, gritting her teeth.

"Oh yeah, and why should I do you any favours hmm?" He raised an eyebrow at her, bringing his fingers, his long fucking guitar-playing fingers, to her jaw and gripped her chin between them. This motion was usually only reserved for Sally, maybe Annabeth but the way in which he had held her face, tender and full of softness left Arden still and waiting.

"What's wrong? Where's your brot-"

"Don't." Arden ripped her chin away from his hold, her voice every so shaky. Neo's eyes softening. "Leave him out of it."

It was then that she tuned back into the music and he tuned back into the conversation of their friends down the corridor. Well, more so the commotion that had started to rise. It seemed it was not a good idea to leave Annabeth with Arden's former bully, not when Annabeth was angry and grieving. And certainly not when she had already gulped down a few drinks.

Arden's head whipped to the left, Neo's following his gaze sharpening as he swiftly removed his body from hers. Without warning, Lucia had slapped Annabeth. Arden didn't know why, or even if Annabeth deserved it, which despite never being the case, could actually have been relatively probable with the state they were both in.

She shot down the corridor, shaking off Neo's sharp gaze that threatened to drown her in her very own blood. They both wafted through people, and those who did not feel her threatening presence were pushed past with a shove from the boy. Catching the end of a yell, Arden groaned.

"He's not an idiot!" It was Annabeth who could barely contain herself, it seemed the land was touchy, and the geyser had started to explode.

"Hey!" Arden shouted, capturing their attention at once. And really, how could she not? She was forged from iron and lost jewels, and to top it all off she was mad, like really mad.

"What happened?" Ancient Greek rumbled from her lips as she reached them, assessing Annabeth's fury and shooting a dark look to the girl behind her.

"Nothing I can't handle water girl." Annabeth brushed off in the language only they could understand, holding her rosy cheek in hand as she moved to attack. But Arden caught her before she could, whispering words of comfort into the girl's ear.

Neo had reached them by this point, furrowed brows and agitation in his step. Lucia was whining about something or other, Arden wasn't really paying attention, the only words she did happen to hear was something about him.

Arden was quick to turn around, fury blazing in her eyes. "What did you say about Percy?"

"I said," Lucia huffed. "That he's kind of an idiot and that he probably left because he couldn't stand the sight of either of you anymore, and I mean, really can you blame him?"

Silly girl.

"Excuse me?" Arden's voice was low as she bared her teeth, moving closer, like a serpent ready to devour its prey. It was Arden's turn to bleed, and she did so as the metallic tinge encompassed her gums, her tongue stinging as she fought hard to keep the monster at bay.

Lucia realised her mistake in that moment, and bloody hell, she had the very nerve to look all sorts of ashamed and fearful.

Good, Arden thought, there is much to fear.

This was who she was, who she needed to be. Neo took one look at her and recognised the inevitable. His eyes darkened and his jaw grew tight with worry.

It was silent for a moment, the minute before all hell broke loose and he didn't have to turn around to face her to see it, to feel it, the blistering fury, the uncontrollable anger, the ravaging pain. His spine stiffened as the music seemed a distant hum and the lights seemed nothing more than a pretty distraction. It floated in the air for a moment, tension swirling and mingling with emotion.

Don't get too close to the blade, don't get too close to the girl.

A warning Neo had foolishly ignored.

The air spat as her fist connected with her nose, a sickening crack slicing through Lucia's senses. It seemed Annabeth would get her show after all, with a full-frontal view, Arden punched Lucia, sending the girl staggering back as the fury that was released struggled to find some form of containment.

Arden knew she shouldn't have done it; she should've held her head high and solved the problem with words or some kind of fucking dignity. Whatever dignity she had left.

But she was not her brother. Arden was full of messy mistakes and anger-coated heartache. She didn't care if she found some sort of satisfaction in the way blood poured from the girl's nose. It was sick, she knew that she was sick. But she was what she had been turned into.

A weapon forged from an unrelenting riptide.

"Mind your business, next time I'll hit harder." Her words, they were barely audible, yet they cut deep into the girl's shell.

And so, Lucia was there, bleeding on the floor of the Garden of Eden, no place for pleasure or paradise. But despite the superficial blundering, Lucia was hardly a cause for pity or sin.

It was death by a thousand cuts, and each word seemed to carve away at Arden, her own quips internalising themselves inside her bloodstream, blades hidden in the depth of her bone marrow as she destroyed herself, her dignity, her pride, all of it for lust and greed.

And so maybe she was indeed the knife that cut her own tongue. Bringing the storm, shaking the earth. Made to destroy. Made to punish. Made to fade into the darkness of her own shadow. A creature of her own destruction, cold and calculated and committed to her fate. A harbinger of ruin.

Or, maybe, just maybe, Arden was the guillotine who shivered on its way to her very own anticipating, exposed neck. 

authors note:

9k??? idk what this is lol, 

also i rlly hope there aren't spelling mistakes but #yolo

pillow fight! just girl besties doing girl bestie things....

boxerxpercy yeah????? 

i've honestly been watching quite a lot of victorian shows recently and they all have some form of underground boxing ring and it is not only very very sexc, in this au it could kind of make sense. i mean yes all their fighting comes naturally to them because they're demigods but, they still need to train and keep their stamina up! and, with money somewhat still tight for them the twins would do anything for the mother to help her? it's a quick easy way to barely do any work Arden would certainly jump at the chance. 

lol poor lucia, she has more depth then i've shown so far, she's not gonna just be a punching bag lmao, she's my mean ex-bully gf! just a psa

for any readers who have yet to read pjo this is still completely au atm!

heroes of olympus next chapter!!!!!

not my best work by far, the last chapter was my peak rip. 

less prose and more dialogue but it's okay bcos i like the dialogue. so hopefully kinda good.

hope you enjoyed!!! i only know heartache <3