Work Text:
Meg had gotten into a fight at school, when a kid had been making fun of her for her stained and patched clothing. She had, of course, restrained herself. The brat had ended up only getting punched once, which shut him up. She has gotten a gash on her head from a broken off bit of locker, and was given a tissue to press against it.
She waited impatiently for the lecture from the principal to end and for Lu to be called. She would pretend to be mad until they had left the building, and then she would critique Meg’s punching skills. After her little criticism was done, there would be ice cream and Meg would got to her room, very much not disciplined, as Lu had promised the from office ladies she would be.
When Meg got tired of holding the napkin to her head, she inspected it. There was the expected red of course, but also flecks of gold. Her stomach rolled and she stared at the clock, willing Lu to get there quicker. She couldn’t have mortals seeing it, they would ask question she couldn’t answer.
As the minutes passed by, she felt her stomach revolt against her. The more she stared at what was in her hand, the more she needed to throw up her lunch. There was something deeply wrong about it, and she didn’t know what. Gold meant ichor, which flowed only through gods. Every time she had seen a demigod, including her, bleed it was nothing but red. It was all she could do not to vomit as she considered what it meant.
When Meg, over a year ago at this point, had gone to the Jackson apartment with Apollo, Sally told her stories. Tales of what Percy had done when he was younger. The amount of trouble he got into and how he never seemed to fit into any school she put him in. Whenever she was called, she couldn’t pick him up. He had to stay at the school, facing whatever punishment he’d been given with only a phone call from her. She understood why that wouldn’t exactly discourage what he did.
After they had left camp the first time Apollo had spoken to her about what he knew about sally herself. She was one of the more well known divine lovers in the past century. Every god knew how she had snubbed Poseidon, rejecting his palace and immortality. She preferred to live the life she had made, and die when her body gave out. Back then, neither of them had understood why she had said no.
To Apollo, it was impossible to wish to stay mortal. He thought of nothing but going back to his old glamour and godliness. He was too caught up in himself to think how Sally might want something different. That she could see what he couldn’t in the divine and mundane. The home was not what was good, but what was familiar.
To her, it was another matter. She knew plenty tales of gods. Ones where they were angered, and everyone suffered for it. How could Sally risk pretty much everyone on Earth to say no to Poseidon. The seas could revolt, swallowing whole cities and coastlines. Millions could die, all because of her. Meg knew what it was like to court power, and it always meant toeing danger. Walking the line between safety and damnation in every move you made.
Her dummy had learned his lesson, and she guessed she had too. She was no longer under Nero’s control, and couldn’t fear a beast she had killed. You couldn’t let someone who said they loved you dictate your life. You had to make your own life, built of your suffering and joy.
That was what she was meant to learn, she tried to convince herself. Not that immortality made you a stranger to all that mattered. Not that being a god left you as susceptible to abuse as being mortal. That groveling to a tyrant for eternity was worse than for a human lifetime. Those were things she knew of course, but would never let herself think. Because then it meant her dummy was cursed.
And now, it meant she was too.
She heard the whispers of nymphs and dryads. How she was a goddess of nature. Protector of Southern California and the wilderness throughout. She was known as a daughter of Demeter, but they questioned whether she was a demigod. Her powers were beyond most children of Demeter and she fought like no one who had a life to lose. Most of them were too young to know her father, and would speculate on him. It took everything within her not to scream at them whenever she heard that kind of talk, that her dad was human and had loved her. That he wasn’t some minor god who had taken less interest in her than Demeter had.
A shrine was built to her, eventually. She didn’t know where it was, just that it was in California. It called to her, but she tried to ignore it. It took everything in her not to follow the pull, to see where it led her. She had no idea who built it, and didn’t want to know. If she ignored it hard enough maybe it her devotees would abandon it. She was no god, no spirit, no divine being. If she repeated it enough maybe it would stay true.
She came across a stray hellhound while exploring around the old greenhouses. It was easy to dispatch, leaving only a single claw mark on her shoulder. She swallowed some ambrosia and tried to bandage it herself by looking in a lake. She stumbled back as gold poured through the wound, mixing with red. It had spread through her. A wild urge ran through her, to cut her arm off and pretend she hadn’t seen anything. Bile rose again and she swallowed it down.
Instead, she staunched her wound as quickly as possible. Meg kept a lookout for any stray naiads, who may start gossip about her state. All nature spirits nearby knew her by sight, and all in California knew of her. Their whispers would only lead to more temples, and gods forbid, actually prayers. Prayers she couldn’t answer but would receive anyways. Because no matter what anyone said, she was mortal. She wasn’t a god.
She remembered someone at camp telling her about Percy Jackson, and how he had refused immortality, offered by Zeus himself. Instead, he had made the gods promise to claim their kids, and built more cabins for the minor gods. He had given up the chance to be a god so his family wasn’t left behind. Some other camper had also mentioned something about how Annabeth hadn’t been included in the immortality deal. They had been told to shut up in case Percy had heard.
Nero had called Jackson an idealistic fool, afraid of power. The only demigod he saw as a true threat. Yet, even at camp, before she saw the truth, Meg admired him. He was willing to sacrifice the so called greatest gift of all to stick up for what he believed in. Her dad would have approved.
Bile rose in her throat as she thought about it. He wasn’t selfless, not at all. Who wanted immortality? Where you could help a hundred people when a thousand were suffering. Where you obeyed laws you couldn’t argue against. An eternal life of being asked for help and convincing yourself it was better to say no.
She couldn’t call it selfish though, either. Gods were vain and entitled. They demanded respect and couldn’t care less about who they were supposed to protect. They were subject to the greatest tyrant of all while pretending to be a council. As a god, he would be under the whims of Zeus, a god who already hated him. He would watch all he loved die as he became apathetic.
She, however had nothing to worry about, as she would die before most people she knew. She didn’t search for death, but was determined to meet it before those she cared about. She would only have to show her siblings how to take on her father’s legacy and her life could end peacefully.
If it happened soon enough, she might actually die.
Meg was woken up as her stomach felt like it was being stabbed. At first, she thought she was. One of her older siblings had gotten tired of her bossing them around and had decided to avenge their stepfather. Then she felt the distinct wetness of her bedspread as she tried to get up.
Lu had warned her that this would happen. She would get her period every month for the next 30 years or so. When they had talked about it, Meg had thought it was a whole lot of crap. Apparently it was necessary to give birth or something, which Meg certainly did not want. Apollo had not been keen on removing the offending organs so she wouldn’t have to worry about it. Something something hormones.
She scrambled to the bathroom and attempted to clean herself up. She took a quick shower, trying to get all the blood off. Finally done dealing with her traitorous body till the morning, she went back to her bed to wash her sheets.
To her horror, her bed was not covered in red but gold. She immediately looked away and tried to ignore the sight as she shoved the dirty linens into the washing machine. She knew it had something to do with the fact that she had begun to hear muffled voices throughout the day.
They were quiet, but came more and more. They always addressed her as my lady, or some other title only the Mellai would ever call her to her face. There had been an increasing number of people in need of her help. Whether that was a nature spirit or half blood, she did the best she could.
It was blasphemy, it had to be. Zeus couldn’t be okay with this. He would hate that mortals had raised her, Meg McCaffrey, into a goddess. He had to have stopped it from happening.
She couldn’t be a goddess, she couldn’t be.
Vomit rose up her throat and she ran back to the bathroom. She tried to purge her stomach of everything in it. She was only encouraged by the gold on that too. She felt crazy enough to test the limit of her transformation. To jump off a cliff and see if she survived. Hopefully she wouldn’t. If she did, she could find other ways to end herself.
To escape what the Jacksons had refused. What Apollo was now trapped in. What Reyna had chosen under the guise of freedom. What demigods aspired to and gods closely safeguarded. What her worshippers had brought upon her, attempting to soothe their woes. She had to help who she could, whoever Zeus allowed her to. No matter what, she could not refuse to help anyone who needed her. She dreaded that now, to make up for the power she had that others did not, she would help. Help until her fingers were raw and her body finally gave in. Until she could finally die.
Because no matter how much gold she bled, and how many prayers she heard, Meg wasn’t a god.