Chapter Text
On the eve of Hazel’s 21st birthday a hoard of people she loved descended on her dorm room to both give her a memorable birthday, and to give her and Frank their respective stag nights. Which was a celebration both had protested but had been told that it was a ‘tradition’ as if celebrating Percy and Annabeth’s engagement two years before set some sort of unbeatable precedent for all their friends getting traditionally married.
But Piper was not too be denied and with a voice that was just shy of charm-speak and the two groups of demigods were off into the streets of New Rome.
Annabeth and Thalia were in charge of their itinerary as the resident sober friends while Piper and Rachel were in charge of making a spectacle of them wherever they went. Complete with poorly written parodies of songs and for some reason lots of streamers and pots and pans.
Meg and Clairesse took point in making sure no one got too close to monster or man alike. Reyna, who had pregamed hard enough too be nicely inhibited by the time they made it to the bar, was there to scream shots and destroy unexpected passer-byes in bar games.
Leo, who showed up uninvited and refused to leave, used his sharp wit to hustle money on Rayna’s skill and keep the drinks flowing.
The next morning they paid for it as all nine Demi-gods sprawled around Hazel’s dorm at New Rome university bemoaning the poor choices they made the night before.
Reyna and Piper had claimed the small twin bed sleeping with their legs tangled and their heads on opposite sides. Reyna was curled around Piper’s leg, snuggling it so hard that it was clear that she was a big spoon. Piper was less graceful in her sleep sprawled on her back with her arms up over her head too block out the sun and her head inches away from Annabeth toe socks. A fashion choice the daughter of Aphrodite would bemoan Reyna for had she not been quite so out of it.
Thalia had curled up on the small bench near the window sill sitting up so she could cradle Meg’s head in her lap. Each breath the younger girl took had the flowers planted in Hazel’s flower box ebbing and flowing toward the daughter of Demeter. Janice sprawled on the bench with her limbs stretching to the ground and her head cradled in Meg’s lap.
Clairesse was laid sprawled out on the floor Rachel and Annabeth tucked under her armpits and held close to her chest. Annabeth pointing toward the restroom and Rachel toward the bed with her feet lifted onto the twin mattress, her feet also directly in Piper’s face.
Hazel had been transferred from her spot in the reading chair to the floor of the bathroom with expert care by Frank who had only let out a few giggles when he came to check on them the next morning. Though he did laugh a bit louder when he found Leo with his bum in the sink basin laying upside down a half finished bridge made from a-tips, Bobby pins, and small hair ties hung from his hooked right finger and rested against the plush carpet in front of the sink.
The sharp rolling laugh was enough to wake both Leo and Hazel. The former of which startled himself awake flopping to the floor and landing ungracefully on his shoulders like a rejected accordion, his knees contracting to his chest as he cursed the fact Mr. D had yet to give him super alcohol tolerance like he prayed for. Hazel had just groaned and rolled deeper into Frank’s chest.
The next few hours were spent by Frank proving he was just to good for the world, holding back her hair as she got sick, rubbing her back, offering a never ending stream of Gatorade’s too chug, and acting as her own personal heater too fight against the otherwise frigid day. He also ran interference to the other girl's friends or significant others as they slowly filed out, including around lunch when Clairesse just tossed Rachel and Piper over her shoulders as if they were potato sacks and offered little more than a head nod to her not quite a half brother as she went.
Annabeth and Percy had left last, Percy getting Leo situated in his own room before turning for his wife. The newly married couple had offered Frank and Hazel a smile and a wave as they went. Percy held up his wife of six months as Annabeth continued to rest her head in the crook of his neck. Hazel had equally been out of it hiding her own face in Frank’s chest and groaning at each rumble as the men spoke briefly. Frank wishing Percy and Annabeth safe travels too New York and confirming that they were not flying, “don’t wanna test it” and that they would be back by the next weekend for group game night. Percy had agreed as long as Monopoly and Scrabble were off the table as game options. Then they had left and Hazel had not even raised her head for long enough to look at them as they left.
In the days, months, and even years that followed she kicked herself for that decision. For not getting up and hugging her friends. For not saying a proper goodbye. Because Percy and Annabeth Jackson never made it to New York, in fact they never made it to their train station. They were lost somewhere on the journey. Instead falling victim to a monster between the borders of New Rome and the bus stop at Marin Avenue and Arlington Circle.
Hazel had cried when she heard, as had Frank holding tight both to each other and to the others around them. Tears fell more freely when they found the shirt that was folded in the top drawer of Percy’s dresser with a reminder to wear it for the next game night in Annabeth’s familiar scrawl.
It was a heather gray with a pocket on the right chest and stated “does this shirt make me look like a Dad?” In the pocket was a small sonogram of a baby Jackson that never was able to meet.
Gods how she wished she had hugged them that day. Hugged them and never let go. Or had spent the last night curled up with them and everyone else in a coffee shop in New Rome just being in each other's presence like Percy had jokingly suggested when Piper had asked what Hazel had wanted for her birthday.
But she knew what was said about wishes. Despite over 90 years having passed she can remember Marie, her mother, standing in her robes, smoke from her sage filling the room as she abolished Hazel for sneaking into the riding club with a long crooked finger. “If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride” she said. Hazel never really understood what it meant other than to wish was foolish.
From that night on she promised to never allow her body to get that drunk again. Never allow that level of inhibition to distract her from her friends and what was important.
Which is why waking up now was so very disorienting.
Because despite having less than a handful of hangovers in the near decade since she still vividly remembered what it felt like.
Her head was throbbing and her eyes felt heavy, the little bit of vision she could manage was blurred. The room that she was in was blissfully covered in shadows and the surface was surprisingly comfortable but she was worryingly unable to make out a single feature of it.
When she tried to move, she realized she was tied down. She twisted left then right trying to determine what exactly held her down. It wasn’t harsh enough to be ropes, nor was it flat enough to be leather. It was rounded slightly and sticky like sap.
A vine she thought.
The more she twisted in the bonds spreading the sap the more her body tingled with heat hives and a more intense burning sensation as if her flesh was on fire.
A poisonous vine. She amended.
A swell of inward panic threatened to overtake her, she was alone, more than likely unarmed, and in no position to defend herself from what ever monster captured her.
But she fell back on her ten years of training in the legion and forced herself to stay calm. After all she had survived a war with the earth itself when she was a teenager. She could best a plant, she just needed too think.
She needed something to cut the vines, she doubted that she would be able to reach her right side where she normally had a Leo made multi tool handy. But her fingers wouldn’t reach.
She almost called out but something in her told her not too. A voice that was not her own yet was eerily familiar.
“Breathe, relax,” the voice repeated, but Hazel paid it no mind.
Instead she desperately tried to call forth a gem, focusing on something with enough strength to cut though the vine, hoping for a weapon to cut through the vines. Slate, jade, quartz, flint anything that would free her.
To her surprise, a jade blade materialized in her right hand. With shaky fingers and incredible dexterity she flipped the blade and slipped it under the tight vines. Positioning it upward was a struggle but as she focused the rest of her body relaxed and somehow the pain subsided, once the blade was in place she used her middle and pointer finger to force it up cutting through the vines. But it made little progress and the vines reacted by tightening around her. The slide leaves behind a burning itch.
She was trapped.
sh*t.
