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Lifetime To Remember
He couldn't remember. Or wouldn't, but at that moment the difference wasn't much. He didn't know his name, or what he liked, or really much of anything at all. When he focused, for about as long as he possibly could without imploding, he saw flashes of gold and sunlight and tan skin and dark storms swirling as if trapped in an eye.
Then it flashed away again and all he would think about would be the storms and the flashes of gold, like one giant lightning storm taking over his head because as hard as he tried there was nothing else he could remember and he was so frustrated, he just wanted one little name-
Annabeth. And what little he had suddenly coalesced into a giant swirling image of light and darkness and it hurt, it hurt like he was being stabbed but oh, he could remember, he knew something-
"Awaken, hero." His eyes flickered open in surprise- since when exactly was he a hero, all he could remember was barely a name and barely a figure that wasn't even his- and standing over him was a huge wolf that he somehow understood, which concerned him far more than anything else so far. Not even what had felt like decades upon centuries upon millennium of nightmares and night and darkness only lit by flashes of gold that seemed like they went directly to his heart-
"Pay attention, weakling." He realized the wolf wasn't really speaking, or at least he hoped so. She- it was definitely a she- was flicking her ears and narrowing her eyes and slowly swishing a long, bushy tail in unmistakeable reproach. Pay attention. Mouth sticky, he opened his lips and coughed, trying to force his brain to remember how to speak, how each letter felt on his tongue, how he'd say Annabeth if he could-
Wham. A heavy paw slammed into the side of his head, but all he felt was a slight vibration and a trickle of laughter that burbled past chapped lips as he watched the intimidating she-wolf curse about her paw, hopping on three legs.
"I shall not forget that again," she signaled angrily in the flick of her tail and ears.
"Forget what?" he wondered aloud, before realizing he had actually spoken.
"It is none of your concern currently," said the wolf. "Personally, I would be more worried over your inability to control your mind or actions, but as you have no memory, I suppose there's nothing much an enemy could take." That, he figured, was the most assistance he was about to get. The she-wolf confirmed this impression when she nudged him forwards, out of what he only then realized was a pile of leaves in a cave, and into a puddle from a trickle of water tracing down the stone.
It felt like he'd been shocked awake when the cold water hit his skin, soaking through his clothes. The fact that those were probably his only ones was his next, angry realization, and a wave shot towards the she-wolf seemingly of its own accord.
"If you dare do that again," she began silkily, "So help me Jupiter, no matter what she says, you will not be leaving." He coughed out a mouthful of water- the puddle was a bit deeper than he had realized- and sat up.
"Could we maybe quit the doom-and-gloom? It's not like I did that on purpose!"
"The 'doom-and-gloom' is for your own good." At least, that's what he thought she said. He'd suddenly realized his proficiency in Wolf wasn't too fabulous.
"Hold on. If everything's 'for my own good,' could you at least tell me who I am? Or something? I think that's kind of a pretty big problem for me right about now." He looked down at himself, like he could find answers on his clothes or skin. The only things he found were a lot of cuts and scars and a faded old orange shirt. For the first time, the wolf seemed amused.
"Your socks, pup, do not hold the clues to the universe. I am Lupa, the mother of Rome. As for the rest, you shall know soon enough." Then she disappeared through a small opening in the wall that he hadn't noticed before. He wanted to shout after her, but instead slipped through the entrance and into blindingly bright sunlight. His eyes seemed to burn and tear up, so instead of looking around he remained focused on the dirt and rocks beneath his feet.
Then someone shoved him over. It didn't hurt, which he thought was weird, especially when he fell on a seemingly pointy rock.
"Constant vigilance," Lupa snarled. "Follow me." Dutifully, he traced her pawsteps across the grass and into the shadows of a small stand of trees, then to the what he figured was the door of a sprawling, utterly destroyed house. As soon as they stepped inside, they were surrounded by wolves of all shapes and sizes, each one looking relatively friendly, as far as wolves could be friendly.
They all sniffed at him, nudging him with their noses occasionally, before settling behind Lupa, who had turned to face him, framed in the light of the doorway.
"Welcome to the Wolf House, Perseus."
"Uh… Nice to be here?" he choked out. For some reason, this didn't feel odd at all. Percy (He thought Perseus was a bit unwieldy) felt, really, as if even though he had no memory of it, he'd been in situations weirder than talking wolves before.
Suddenly, his vision flickered again and the gray and silver of a storm swept over his sight and golden lightning that seemed like it was composed of laughter and sunlight shot through the clouds-
He hit the ground with a reflexive "Ow!"; it hadn't hurt in the least. The wolves were milling around and their amber eyes seemed to darken, as if they were sensing weakness. Weakness is bad, he thought instinctively. Do not show weakness.
Percy shot up, grabbing at the wall for support when the storm flashed across his vision again, but luckily he didn't fall. "I'm good, really, no need to be concerned," he said, waving one hand airily. Lupa sniffed.
"Merely interacting with you concerns me for the future of the world, Perseus."
"Good to know, as soon as I have a memory again I'll work on that," he mumbled.
"Then I shall have to wait a very long time to be unconcerned. Do not expect your memories back any time soon, pup."
The pack shifted again, looking like shadows in the darkness of the house. They settled back into a semicircle around Lupa, but didn't look quite so bloodthirsty to Percy, so he was good with it.
"Just, you know, out of curiosity- why don't I have any memories?" It wasn't out of mere curiosity, though. Simply the past ten minutes of wakefulness had caused him terrible pain when he tried to remember anything at all. The only thing he could remember- Annabeth- was even worse. Just thinking of the name or the storms he associated with it felt like his heart was being ripped apart. It made him want to fight something, protect someone, destroy any chance of knowing anything else if he could just know more about her.
"That is none of your concern."
"They're mine!" he said furiously. "I don't care what you think! They belong to me!"
"You do care. Or, at least, you should, as I happen to be the only one who knows and also the only one keeping you alive, Perseus. I will not tolerate foolish Gr- Eastern notions." Percy took a huge, deep breath. She was right- wasn't she? His head told him so, but his heart was screaming an absolute no, a call to fight for himself, to not trust this wolf that seemed so different from what he had ever known-
Lupa interrupted his thoughts. "Do not think with your heart, weakling. Romans do not and neither shall you. A hero is naught without a head." To emphasize her point, she snarled softly. "You can accept my teaching- for it is thus, not help. Only the weak require help. Or I will just as easily turn you into a fine meal. Make your choice, Perseus."
The wolves- most nearly his height, he suddenly noticed- slipped forwards silently. In the time that had passed since he had woken up, the sun had started to set and the shadows of the wolves were cast long across the ground, making the white flicker of razor teeth all the more noticeable.
Percy had backed himself away from the wall instinctively and shifted closer to the door, but he knew the wolves were much faster than his thin and hungry frame, from what he figured was months of endless sleep. The whistling wind seemed to be forming soft words. Make a choice, make a choice, it whispered and Percy reached for his pocket, suddenly wanting a weapon-
His hand found a pen and he yanked it from his pocket, tearing off the cap like second nature. When a bronze sword suddenly appeared in his hand, he was somehow far from surprised.
The glowing blade lit the room, pushing back the dark shadows and Percy somehow knew it had done just that, push away the darkness, destroy the evil, before and as he stepped forwards, confident in whatever memory he had in the blade, the wolves slipped backwards.
Percy could feel them moving around him, trying to surround him, but the bronze blade seemed to make its own path, lighting everywhere they stepped as he rolled its perfect grip in his palm. For the first time thus far, he felt like his head maybe wasn't quite so empty, maybe he still knew something, like the sword's appearance had reawakened some part of his mind.
"Put it away," hissed the she-wolf. "You could not defeat us." But her body language seemed unsure, as if maybe he could fight them and win, as if perhaps she hadn't quite expected him to challenge her. "Romans do not attack an ally." And with sudden, uncharacteristic anger Percy spoke out.
"Then maybe I'm not quite Roman."