It seemed like Percy had finally found something he was good at: sailing. The Queen Anne's Revenge responded to his every command. He knew which ropes to hoist, which sails to raise, which direction to steer. They plowed through the waves at what he figured was about ten knots. Percy even understood how fast that was.

But now that they were out of danger, all Percy could think about was how much he missed Tyson and how worried he was about Grover (and the tiniest part of his brain lingered on how good Aurora looked in her dress and braid tied off with a ribbon). He couldn't get over how badly he'd messed up on Circe's Island. If it hadn't been for Aurora and Annabeth, he would still be a rodent, hiding in a hutch with a bunch of cute furry pirates.

He thought about what Circe had said: See, Percy? You've unlocked your true self!

Percy still felt changed. Not just because he had a sudden desire to eat lettuce—which he would never have. But he felt jumpy, like the instinct to be a scared little animal was now a part of him. Or maybe it had always been there. That's what really worried him.

But the son of Poseidon remembered what Circe had said to Aurora, and he determined she was full of shit. What did she know, if she said Aurora wasn't powerful? Seeing the daughter of Persephone stab her in the back—literally—was more than satisfying.

As they sailed through the night, Aurora and Annabeth tried to help Percy keep lookout. However, within a few hours, Annabeth's face turned the color of guacamole and she went below to lie in a hammock, leaving Aurora and Percy alone.

Aurora watched the horizon, her lips drawn in a straight line, and Percy watched Aurora. Though it had been a while since they'd left the island—annoyingly enough—she was still wearing her dress and her makeup was still in place. She stared straight ahead, twisting Oleander on her finger nervously. She seemed a thousand miles away, stuck in her own head. Percy wanted to bring her back to earth—or land. Really, wherever she wanted to be.

He walked over, matching her position of leaning against the railing so that they were standing next to each other. It was nearly midnight, and the ocean was pitch black, the sky twinkling with an array of constellations. Percy took a deep breath, silently appreciating the solemnity the sea had brought.

"You look pretty." Percy murmured under his breath, his words cutting into the hushed serenity of the night. He said it so quietly, he had hoped Aurora hadn't heard him, but the way she smiled at him indicated otherwise. He didn't know why the words had slipped out, but Percy just felt like she needed to hear it. She needed to know it.

"What?" Aurora turned to him with raised eyebrows, beaming far too widely to have been actually questioning what had been uttered. Percy realized she had a slight dimple on her left cheek. "What'd you say, Shark Boy?"

"I said, 'you look shitty.'" He tried to recover, coughing awkwardly. Percy had no idea why he thought saying whatever he said was a good idea, but the truth was: he wasn't thinking. Nothing quite new. "Night, Flower Face—"

"Not so fast, Jackson." Aurora grabbed his arm as he made a move to step backwards, her strong grip keeping him glued to the floor underneath his feet, so that he was firmly planted next to her. But, if Percy was being honest, as soon as Aurora's hand wrapped itself around his forearm, he wasn't going to go anywhere. They had come so far as friends, and the fact that Aurora was telling Percy to stay was unreal, and strange, and Percy was not going to pass up that opportunity. "You think I'm pretty?"

He scrunched his nose, as if it was some disgusting statement that he would never say. Percy didn't know how he'd become such a liar. "Fuck no."

"Well, thank you, Shark Boy. You're cute too, I guess." She paused for a second, pursing her lips. She was either contemplating, or plotting; either way, Percy was sort of—very—terrified. After an agonizing beat, Aurora continued, glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes with a wry smile. "I don't know... your cuteness reminds me of some sort of animal, in a way. Kind of like a hamster, or a mouse, or a—oh yeah! A guinea pig."

Her lips stretched into a large grin and she laughed her laugh, that tantalizing giggle that made everything else simply drown out as Percy glowered at her. "I do miss you as a guinea pig though. Sort of wish I left you like that. I could carry you around in my pocket and pet your little head and you would never speak ever again."

"You think you're funny, but you're really not." Percy grumbled, shoving her hand off of him with annoyance. Being a guinea pig made him insecure.

"Oh no! Percy Jackson doesn't think I'm funny! What ever will I do?" Aurora wailed, pitching her voice higher and rolling her eyes, to convey the message, No one cares what you think. "Maybe I'll start crying and never stop."

"I hope you do."

"I hope you fall off this boat."

"I'm the son of Poseidon."

"So? Ooh, you're the son of Poseidon. Big fucking deal. I'll personally drown you."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Underestimating me." She clucked her tongue, her eyes turning to the night sky, as if to hide some of the truer sentiment her words held. Percy didn't miss it, but he didn't call her out either. "Not surprised."

Percy glared at her.

"I love how you're acting like you didn't call me a goddess and your dream girl the first day you met me." Aurora said casually, winking. Her lips grew into a smirk as Percy stared at her, unmoving. That same twinkling laughter bubbled out of her mouth as his mouth fell agape, no words coming out, his brain failing to produce some sort of retort or comeback.

Because as unfortunate as it was, she was right. Percy had said that.

Aurora brushed her fingers through her hair, now wavier than usual after it had been taken out of her braid. "I win," she declared with a definitive grin.

"No, you don't!"

"Oh, I do."

"Well, you think my eyes are pretty."

"You looked like you were about to die, Percy. I had to say something nice to bring you back to life."

"Yeah, right."

"So," she said, drawing out the word with a smirk that seemed to mock him. "Basically, what you're saying is, I win!"

"No—" Percy rolled his eyes and looked at her brightly grinning face, but he, for some reason, couldn't complete his argument. His shoulders sagged as he gave up with a sigh. "Fine. You look good, Ro."

He cleared his throat, his confidence faltering as he added quietly, his gaze not quite meeting her eyes, "You always look good."

Aurora stared at him, blinking once, then twice. She tilted her head to the side with confusion, as if she was trying to guess whether or not he was being serious. Her words came out rushed and unsure as her eyebrows shot up. "Oh. Thanks, I guess. I mean, liar, liar, pants on fire, but that's... nice. That's nice of you to say."

"I'm not lying—"

"Shh, pretty boy, you don't have to talk." She held a finger up to his lips, her eyes shining with something that Percy couldn't interpret. The skin on his face seared as Aurora quickly withdrew her hands from his face. He parted his lips—where Aurora's fingertips had touched—letting air move in and out. "It would be better that you don't. You're so—"

"Handsome? Cute?" Percy finished for her, his mouth quirking to the side. "So hot you can't see straight?"

"Stupid, you idiot." She scoffed, hitting his shoulder—hard. "You're dumb."

"I could be that." Percy answered with a smile, ignoring the wince that was gnawing at his pain reflexes as he grabbed his wounded shoulder. Aurora was wildly strong, and ow.

"Dead?" She asked with a glimmering hope that made Percy want to roll his eyes.

"If that's what you want. But, it seems like I'm prophesied to be that anyway." Percy snorted.

Aurora pressed her lips tightly together, hesitating. She seemed to be having a war in her mind, her mouth twisting to the side as she let out a slow, steady breath of air. "Okay. Okay." She exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. For a split second, Percy could see a look of pain flicker across her face, but Aurora didn't let it sit. She shook her head, as if to brush off the evident feelings, and smiled weakly. "You want to know?"

For the first time—who is Percy kidding? For the billionth time—Percy had no answer. "Do I?"

"It's not really my decision." Aurora's tone seemed aloof, and her off-handed shrug supported the assumption, but Percy saw something else. He saw how she locked her gaze on the horizon, her blazing hazel eyes watching the waves lap. She wouldn't look at him, and suddenly, Percy was scared. Do I want to know?

"You know me." Percy reasoned carefully, trying to keep his voice from being combative, trying to keep his request from seeming dependent. "I trust you."

Aurora waited a minute, two. She continued to stare at the darkened sea, watching as the nearly black waves crashed and the tide continued to go out. Percy would've wondered if she was awake if it weren't for the light breaths she took every couple seconds.

Then finally, finally, Aurora told Percy his fate as he waited with bated breath.

"I don't know the full prophecy, but it warns about a half-blood child of the Big Three. The next one who lives to the age of sixteen will be a dangerous weapon. He, or she, will decide the fate of Olympus and make a decision that either saves the Age of the Gods, or destroys it."

Percy didn't get seasick, but he felt a wave of illness wash over him. "That's why Kronos didn't kill me last summer."

Aurora nodded, not looking at Percy. "You could be very useful to him. If he can get you on his side, the gods will be in serious trouble."

"But if it's me in the prophecy—"

"We don't know yet. If you survive three more years... Well, we'll see then. There was Thalia, but you know what happened to her. No one knew what to think when she turned into a pine tree. Until you came along. And now, there's—" Aurora stopped, finally taking a quick glance at Percy. Her face was stark, as if terrified, and her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Hades told me last summer—remember, when I was trapped in the Underworld and all that—that he has two children somewhere out here. There are two more demigods out there that could be the ones in the prophecy. It doesn't have to be you." She looked away again, biting the inside of her cheek. "It doesn't have to be you." Aurora repeated, more towards herself. But that statement didn't comfort him.

"Did the prophecy give any hints?" Percy questioned, almost desperately. It didn't matter that there were three other kids like him, who could—you know—end the world. Because, as much as he didn't want to die, he couldn't live with himself if he was the reason someone else died.

Aurora faltered, turning around. She gave his shoulder—the one she didn't punch—a quick pat that was probably supposed to be comforting. "Go to sleep, Shark Boy."

"Dream of me, Flower Face." Percy called as she retreated, a futile attempt at lightening the already darkened mood.

"You wish." was Aurora's response, and then Percy was alone with nothing but thoughts of his future, the prophecy, and Aurora's objection to them both.

ೀ⋆｡🌷

It was official, ladies and gentlemen: Annabeth Chase has created a new level of insanity.

Aurora rubbed her eyes, waking with a groan as the daughter of Athena shook Percy awake. He let out a shriek, and Aurora snorted as she rolled out of her hammock.

"What is it?" Percy asked, his voice unnecessarily alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"Land," Annabeth answered grimly. She looked at Aurora. "We're approaching the island of the Sirens."

See, this is where Aurora considered tackling Annabeth, shoving her into a small cardboard box, calling up Hermes, and shipping her back to Camp Half Blood. Because this stupid island was something Annabeth had been dreaming about visiting since Aurora knew her. Was it a strange thing for a seven year old to yearn for? Yes. Very. And it was even weirder for a thirteen year old.

"You know what to do, Ror?"

"Yes, Annie, I know." Aurora responded with a grumble, crossing her arms defiantly like a child. As much as Aurora wanted to save her best friend, she also could never imagine not doing what Annabeth wanted. "Don't worry, I'll bind your hands and let you drown yourself."

"What?" Percy exclaimed, his sleepy ocean green eyes wide with confusion. "What kind of island are we going to?"

"Wise Girl is genuinely mentally ill. She wants to hear the Sirens." Aurora scoffed, leaning against her hammock as Annabeth threw a bag of salt and vinegar chips at her head. The daughter of Persephone caught it swiftly and opened the bag, blissfully eating its contents.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "They say the Sirens sing the truth about what you desire. They tell you things about yourself you didn't even realize. That's what's so enchanting. If you survive... you become wiser. I want to hear them. How often will I get that chance?"

"How fun." Aurora added sardonically, biting a potato chip in half.

Annabeth informed Percy of her plan six years in the making, and Percy glanced at Aurora, the two exchanging a "what the fuck?" expression, before reluctantly helping her get ready.

Aurora wrapped a rope around Annabeth's waist, hesitating. Annabeth glared at her pointedly, and Aurora looked at Percy pleadingly.

"Can you use your pirate-y magic?" She begged solemnly. As much as Aurora loved Annabeth, she couldn't go through with it. Tying your best friend to the foremast so she could figure out what was wrong with her wasn't exactly appealing.

Percy nodded, complying to Aurora's orders.

"Don't untie me," Annabeth commanded, "no matter what happens or how much I plead. I'll want to go straight over the edge and drown myself."

"Are you trying to tempt me?" Percy shot back.

"Haha."

Aurora squeezed Annabeth's hand once before walking towards Percy to stand next to him. "I'll keep you secure, babe. I hope this is everything you want it to be."

Annabeth smiled gratefully at her friend, but Aurora couldn't help but feel sick to her stomach.

Percy nudged her elbow slightly, his voice low and worried. "Let's go below deck, so we can't hear. Okay?"

Aurora nodded, but her feet dragged behind her as Queen Anne's Revenge started towards the rocky coastline of the island. Percy practically had to carry her so she would finally leave Annabeth and bring herself to safety.

Percy slid to the floor of the lower deck, patting the wooden planks next to him. Aurora agreed and sat down, close enough so that their knees touched, but far enough away from each other that they were aware of the space the area had given them.

"She's—" Percy began.

"Crazy, I know." Aurora shook her head. "She's been talking about trying to figure out her 'fatal flaw' for years now. Thinks it'll make her some great demigod, or something like that. Whatever it is, those sirens are working extra late. You know, 'cause they're sirens." She explained, making her fingers into air quotes with the words "fatal flaw."

Percy cocked his head to the side, his eyes moving back and forth, as if tracing her face. Aurora didn't like how analytical he had become, the blur of the sea green almost mesmerizing as he inspected her. "And you don't want to know?"

"Do you?" Aurora countered, with a raise of her eyebrows. She didn't realize how snappy her tone had become until Percy did a double take, raising his hands awkwardly as if to show his innocence.

Aurora sighed regretfully, shrugging hopelessly. It was bad knowing the truth, but it was even worse trying to speak it. But looking at Percy, his guilt-ridden eyes at getting her so worked up and his downturned lips, something about him just made her... Aurora didn't know. She wanted to be honest with him? Maybe that was it.

"I don't need to hear the sirens to know what they're going to say." Aurora confessed, bringing her knees to her chest. She felt so exposed when being truthful, and it didn't help that Percy's frown deepened with confusion.

But the truth, the gods' honest truth, was there, blaring loudly at her with neon blinking lights. It was something Aurora had never wanted to even think of before, in fear that in doing so, she would speak it into creation. It was as if, if Aurora didn't acknowledge it, it then wouldn't exist. But that wasn't true. And Aurora was ready—(she really wasn't)—to face what was.

Her biggest fear. Her fatal flaw. It was ridiculous, and it was so stupid, and it was her. Well, she was ridiculous and stupid, so it sort of fit.

But after so many people had underestimated her, seen her as nothing—as a powerless captive, as a useless fighter, as an untalented demigod, as someone who was the furthest thing from a threat that there was—Aurora realized that her greatest fears were coming true: she wasn't good enough. She wasn't perfect enough. She always knew she was a perfectionist, but the thought of letting everyone down, not living up to her expectations drove her mad. And the fact that it was becoming truer and truer by the day... she was horrified with the fact, and she loathed herself.

But it wasn't just perfectionism. Aurora's fatal flaw... she couldn't exactly put a name on it, and it made her look stupid and feel invalid, but that was that. That was her.

It was some irrational fear of who she would let down, who she would fail, if she wasn't perfect. It was the fear of failing to meet people's expectations, the expectations of perfection. And that idiotic fear drove her every being. It compelled her to need to be perfect. And she was deathly afraid of not being perfect, not being enough.

But, despite everything—everything she wanted to believe and every lie she told herself, the fact of the matter was: Aurora was not special. She wasn't really... anything.

Because of that, because of her stupid normalcy, her lack of power and talent, she had to be good. Perfect. And she clearly wasn't. What had Circe said? She didn't know what kind of power—if any—that Aurora possessed. That statement right there nearly tore her to shreds. Because Circe was right.

They all were right. The ones who ignored her, the ones who tossed her to the side. Aurora had no power, no special ability that made her outstanding. She had nothing to make her good, nothing to make her the perfect demigod. She was failing.

When she was young, the gods wanted to kill her. Persephone had a child, with a mortal. She had a demigod daughter, like all the rest of the gods and goddesses on Olympus, but because of her marital status with Hades, everyone was outraged.

But, you might be asking yourself, Hades had demigod children! He currently has demigod children. He's married to Persephone. He cheated on her, many, many times. Why couldn't she?

Well, Hades