Work Text:
As a child of Ares, Clarisse had never felt sympathy like this before. But when she first saw 13-year-old Will Solace becoming head counselor of the Apollo cabin after the war, it was inevitable.
She had sworn to protect the camp, her home, her warmth, her hearth. It was too late when she realized what her actual home was, those who she actually wanted to protect. Her fellow campers, the friends she deeply cared for (even if she wouldn’t admit it), had been the family Clarisse wanted to keep safe in her arms.
For her -hard to admit- selfish acts, she had lost one of the people she most cared for. Silena Beauregard’s death was the heaviest weight on her shoulders. Clarisse felt as if part of her was gone, like half of her soul was taken away. A profound emptiness had grown in her heart, there was a crack that could never be mended.
After her, more deaths came rubbing in her face, countless demigods who were a part of her family.
She discovered Michael Yew had died in the battle after asking Travis Stoll about the new blond boy. When she first saw him at the council meeting he was slightly curled up into himself, face hidden by his freckled hands and golden curls covered part of his stormy blue eyes. His gaze seemed lost, empty and sad, but determined and fierce as well.
Underneath her strong facade she felt devastated, all she ever did with Yew was fight, bicker and fight again. It was a constant knife rain of insults, the chariot was the last drop. Now, after discovering he was gone, the deepest corner of her mind indulged in her sorrow ‘What if they had been friends?’ ‘What if they had ignored their differences and just talked?’.
For the longest time, Michael was her personal rival, but he was also a half-blood, family, and she let him die as well.
Now, as a consequence of her actions, she was looking straight at sapphire eyes, clouded by immense grief, shrouded with fake well-being and dimmed by the new role taken. Will Solace had become a head counselor at 13, there was no one older or more experienced than him in the Apollo cabin.
Clarisse didn’t even know Solace, she had only seen him glued to Michael’s side everywhere he went. The boy always tried to be the middle ground, he intervened in every Apollo vs Ares fight. It was clear he cared deeply about his siblings’ well being, but it was also clear he was fair, just and strong-willed when he sided with her cabin’s side of the argument.
There always seemed to be a naive sweetness in his eyes, his voice usually came out as a soft lullaby and sun rays beamed from his smile. Clarisse could immediately read Will’s attributes just by observing his attitude, his acts of caring, his impulsive fidgeting and every shiver his body produced when he pushed back a sob. Except the sweetness was now accompanied by sorrow. The deepest, darkest sorrow of all.
Clarisse silently admired him. How he wasn’t letting his grief bring him down, how he wasn’t allowing himself to cry for the sake of his only siblings left. If the camp saw the most optimistic and hopeful person break down, who knew how shattering would that be to the rest? Will Solace was strong, she could see his stubborn eyes blinking hard to avoid spilling any tears, his shaking hands occasionally clenching into fists. That’s when the unfamiliar feeling started to kick in. Sympathy for the boy combined with shame for her actions.
She didn’t plan on talking to him, thinking he might hate her the most after fighting with his brother and letting him die. Yet, her feet acted on their own.
When she reached him a smile appeared on his face, it was small and broken but it didn’t seem fake. The last thing she expected from Will in his current state was a smile that felt warm.
To be so broken and still smile at the ones you hate— Solace was impressive.
It was awkward at first. Clarisse patted his back and apologized for his fallen siblings. Will said sorry back to her. Then silence reigned in. She wasn’t a comforting person, actually she was the worst at consoling, but her heart ached at the sight of the young boy forced to be the replacement of the brother he lost, a leader to the little amount of brothers and sister he had left, to honor the dead and state their goodbyes in front of everyone. She felt terrible for the pain she had caused him.
“Yew would be proud” it was barely a sentence, just four words long, four words she didn’t have the right to say. But the impact they had was immense.
It was like a rainy day, clouds hid the sun and cried over her head. Solace’s expression rained on her, the walls he had been building crumbled down in an instant. She placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it, trying to share the smallest warmth she had with Will just like his smile always did. His tears rapidly flowed down his tan cheeks, his body visibly shook under Clarisse’s ghost touches and rubs on his back.
After a few seconds, the boy regained his composure and smiled again. He thanked her, then laughed. Laughed at the irony of his state, how she was the one to share her condolences with him and his current vulnerability that made him feel too fragile. Will’s cheeks grew a pinkish blush.
Clarisse promised him new beginnings, making amends between their cabins to honor the fallen warriors. Will promised her benefits in games and the infirmary, but she refused, she didn’t deserve them. Lastly, she expressed her admiration, it was hard to do and Solace only stared at her in shock afterwards, but it was enough. She swore to guide him into being a counselor, she told him to ask her for help anytime and to let her train him in combat and leadership.
“And Will,” her rough voice whispered “Keep the chariot, Yew would’ve wanted you to have it” she left his side and walked away. She didn’t want to own the thing that caused so many deaths, if the damn chariot hadn’t existed to begin with things could’ve been so different. Maybe Silena would be alive, maybe Michael too.
Those shiny wheels were a symbol of the eternal cycle of death, the horse’s neigh felt like the cries of her fallen friends, and the reigns were like a whip that reminded her of past mistakes. She wasn’t keeping it, it wasn’t a trophy anymore.
Looking back to the blond boy, the shock on his face grew bigger. He sobbed and laughed. To Will, the chariot was a different thing, a commemoration for the ones he had lost, a symbol of hope for a better future. Or at least she believed so.
And so he laughed, he laughed as he cried. He cried for his siblings. But he healed with a smile.
Only Will Solace could laugh when he was grieving.