Chapter Text
Being a soldier meant being alert and prepared to face any situation at any time. As one of the best in her field, Reyna was ready for whatever challenges came her way. Having fought in three wars over three years tends to prepare anyone for that.
Yet, for some reason, Reyna had no preconceived plan on what to do when one is thrown 4 years in the past.
Abysmal planning on my part, she thought to herself as she got up from the familiar bed in Circe's resort.
Reyna was not one to panic easily. Life had thrown so much at her that it had started to become the norm these days. However, this definitely caused some concern. Is this a trick of the divine? A dream?
Her gaze scanned the familiar room, trying to remember her time of tutelage under the mythic witch. It was tiny, only meant for low-level apprentices, but it had been enough for young Reyna.
Instinctively, she moved towards the worktable, where a stack of tomes on magic and potion brewing lay. Her finger traced the edge of the leather covers, searching for any fragments of knowledge that might come to mind. Yet, nothing surfaced.
Not a single thought registered. Everything felt hazy, as if this part of her life was merely a blur. It was as if she had repressed any memories from that period behind a wall, her mind stubbornly refusing to delve into what had happened during those months.
Names came back and some faces too, but that was about it.
The only thing Reyna could clearly remember was that last day on the island—the day she lost her second home.
Although now thinking about it…
Carefully, she moved the books aside, revealing the small hole in the wall she had dug herself with a spoon. Any personal belongings had been confiscated when Circe welcomed them on the island: clothes, weapons, and other personal items. But still, Reyna had managed to sneak in a single thing: A white mug with the logo of Barrachina painted on it.
She knew, even back then, that it was foolish to cling to her past life. It was over, San Juan would never be home again—not after that day. Nico had claimed that Father was already dead when she struck him down, but he wasn't there. He didn't hear the screams, didn't hear the curse thrown at her. He would never understand what her father's last words were. Nobody would except Reyna.
She traced her finger along the rim of the mug, reminiscing about how she had obtained it. Following the harrowing of that fateful night, Hylla had gone into the restaurant to beg for some food for their travels. Brilliant as her older sister was, she had also left a crying, traumatised child on the night streets of San Juan alone, for all to see.
Thankfully, one of the line cooks happened to take a smoke break at that time. He didn't question when he saw the crying child on their porch, but instead went back in and returned with a mug filled with hot chocolate.
This simple act had provided more comfort than Hylla ever could. Not that her older sister never made an effort, it was just that she struggled with it. Hylla was a protector, not a comforter. If she needed to comfort, it meant she had failed at her job.
It was a trait that Reyna unfortunately shared as well.
She placed the mug back in the hole. Now wasn't the time to reminisce, especially since she held zero understanding of the situation. Her mind shifted to strategic analysis; she needed to understand the facts.
Fact one: This was neither a dream nor a vision. Everything felt too real and different from past experiences with said dream landscape.
Fact two: She was on Circe's island, which had been destroyed years ago.
All of this suggested that she had been transported somewhere during her slumber. Her first thought immediately went to a possible replica of the island. A hypothesis that was disproven when the mug was found. Nobody knew it was there, and it had been destroyed during the sacking.
Dread settled around her stomach as countless more theories formed in her already overwhelmed mind. One of these overtook all as Reyna stumbled towards the bathroom, heading right for the mirror hanging on the wall opposite the shower.
Fact three: She was back in her thirteen-year-old body.
A series of curses, both in Latin and Spanish, ran through her mind at the sight of tiny, frail Reyna. All of her hard work attaining a physique she had actually liked had evaporated in a single night. What a mess.
What could this possibly mean? Was she in the past, about to relive the events of her life? A shiver ran through her at the thought. If the timeline were to be continued, the next major event would be the worst of all.
But maybe she could change it? Stop the island from being destroyed, or something similar? Anything to avoid that ship again.
"What is going on?" she mumbled, a hand going through her loose hair
At least it looked healthier, almost glowing beneath the orange torchlight. And her face… seemed so young, free of the stress line inherited through years of leadership and lack of sleep. Black eyes twinkling stared back at her, eager to see what today would bring.
Young Reyna somehow still held on to hope that all would be fixed. That Hylla and her could be a proper functioning family once more.
A delusion, as they never were functional in the first place.
It didn't matter, as that hope would completely disappear in the coming…days? Weeks? How long until Jackson and Chase arrive as destroyers?
Well, she wouldn't learn that by staying in her room. Tying her hair in the usual braid—something that brought a much-needed comfort in these trying times—she then walked over to a closet. A grimace formed on her face as she eyed the cobalt blue uniform of the attendant, resembling that of a flight attendant in commercial airlines.
How Reyna wished she could wear her armor instead. It was as if she were missing a layer of herself without it. Nonetheless, she put on the uniform, making sure not a single piece was out of place.
As she closed the closet, something caught her eye on the bed—a hint of purple edging out beneath the duvet. Curious, and because Reyna really liked purple, she raised the white sheets, only to reveal.
"My cloak," She gasped in happiness as she brought it to her chest, feeling like a giddy child at the touch of the soft fur. Somehow, Athena's gift had traveled with her in this place. Something weird because her clothes hadn't, so how did it get here?
No matter, Reyna was glad to have it with her.
The cloak was a handy tool, capable of adapting to any situation, much like Reyna herself. Its primary feature was, of course, the ability to deflect anything that came into contact with it.
Additionally, Reyna had discovered a newer aspect of the cloak: she could add a layer of black fur mixed with a hint of white beneath the silk. This feature allowed Reyna to keep warm in cold climates and, more importantly, served as a comfortable weighted blanket, also capable of protecting her from any surprise attack while she slept.
However, it was still a burden to bear, especially now that she couldn't wear it, as it would attract unnecessary attention. Yet Athena, being the wise being she was, had considered this. Reyna could simply transform the cloak into a golden chain with an owl pendant and wear it around her neck.
She tucked the chain beneath her blouse and walked towards the balcony, intending to grab some fresh air before this day could start. Not that she remembered what she was supposed to, but surely someone would fetch her, right?
On the way, Reyna grabbed a notebook and a pen from the worktable. She needed to make a list. But a list of what? Reyna didn't know; she only needed to do something to calm her mind.
A list usually helped.
The balcony door opened to a wave of nostalgia. The memories were still locked away, but Reyna knew she loved her view of the Caribbean Sea. The crystalline blue waves crashed against the white sand beach, while tall palm trees cast shadows over a couple of attendants enjoying their day off as they read novels beneath them. The scent of the sea breeze was so familiar, reminding her of the beach near San Juan, where Hylla and she would spend hours, hiding away from Father's rage.
Reyna sat herself on a long chair beneath a large umbrella as the sky was fierce on this day. Its sole presence on this cloudless day brings another level to this humid heat. Clicking her pen open, she started writing.
Name: Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano
Occupation: Senior Praetor of Legio XII Fulminata
Home: Camp Jupiter/New Rome
Family: Hylla (Sister, alive). Bellona (Mother, Goddess)
Friends: Nico Di Angelo, Annabeth Chase (Unsure), Thalia Grace (Unsure).
Current location: Circe's island
Date: ???
Last memory: Going to sleep after a discussion with Nico concerning his ongoing unhealthy habit of finding himself in Tartarus.
Problem: Everything suggests that I'm stuck in the past, reliving memories of the future. Other possibilities could be that my younger self saw the future in a dream. Lacking enough evidence to make an educated guess.
Solution: Unsure. I will wait for now; maybe further instructions from the Gods will follow. The deadline for inaction will be when Perseus Jackson and Annabeth Chase land on the island.
If no instructions are to be received, I will have no choice but to join the Greeks on the quest, as they will present the only way out of this place. I cannot stay on this island a day more. My presence at Camp Jupiter is required for things to work out.
I will also stop them from unleashing Blackbeard on this island. If not to save life, then for keeping Circe neutral in the coming war.
Hylla presents a complicated conundrum, however. We must go our separate ways, for without her becoming queen of the Amazon, they will side with Gaea under the rule of corruption. How to do so without Blackbeard is something that eludes me.
Other unanswered questions :
Am I the only one with this knowledge of future events?
Am I allowed to change the course of history?
Is this penance from the Gods?
Reyna's pen trailed off as she wrote down that last sentence. What if it was? What if she hadn't done enough to cleanse her hand of blood? Gods were vindictive beings, and most would assume that killing their children, even in the name of war, would make them remember the killer's name.
Her hand started to tremble as nefarious thoughts spiraled through her mind again. The list hadn't worked. Why wasn't it working? A list always worked. Always.
Reyna needed a weapon, something to distract her. Anything to stop her brain from crashing down. She couldn't afford it. Not now.
A loud knock at her door almost made her jump when it resonated through her room. Reyna quickly tore the page she had just written on, tucked it inside the pocket of her skirt, and stood up, her hands clasped behind her back as she needed to stop them from trembling.
She needed to eliminate her weakness; showing it in front of others would only lead to more trouble. Despite her left hand being clasped tightly around her right wrist—so tight that it surely blocked circulation—the trembling persisted.
A wave of nausea washed over her as the edge of her vision started to dim. She could feel her heartbeat pound inside her ears, like the sound of a horse going at full speed, its hooves clomping on the ground relentlessly.
Another knock came at the door, and this time Reyna did jump, startled at how loud and sharp it sounded. A voice came following it, but even though the knocking was here with clarity, Reyna couldn't understand the muffled words.
"J-just a minute," she tried to call out, only for her to sound weak and pathetic, stumbling over basic vocabulary.
The voice came back in force, clearer this time, but Reyna still couldn't register the words, as if it spoke another language.
Stumbling over to her bed with heavy limbs, Reyna then pulled the heavy Aegis cloak over herself, wishing the voice would just go away. It was hot, so hot beneath the layer of protection, but Reyna didn't want to be anywhere else but in this darkness. She didn't deserve anything else.
It didn't matter that her sweat stuck to the cloak; it would clean itself when turning back into the chain.
It didn't matter that she was letting her weakness take over.
It didn't matter.
Nothing mattered.
Reyna didn't matter. That was the reason why everybody left her.
Now she would have to relive it again. Father was already dead, but
Hylla.
Jason, twice.
Octavian, for he was good once.
Dakota.
Nico would join them eventually. No one stuck around her.
The door opened. Reyna didn't budge. Someone walked in. Reyna didn't budge. Someone spoke to her. Reyna didn't budge.
She didn't care that she was starting to suffocate beneath the cloak. Maybe that's what she deserved after all.
Lights flooded back into her vision as the intruder pulled the cloak away. Reyna didn't bulge.
"Go away," she tried to say, but the words couldn't leave her mouth. Instead, she curled further into a ball, begging to everything listening to be left alone.
Prayers that went unanswered as the person said her name, followed by a bunch of jargon…No, that was Spanish. Why were they speaking to her in Spanish? It was something she rarely did these days. It was a reminder of the life she threw away.
Of what could've been.
Something that she could never have back, no matter what happened.
"What do you want?" she asked in English, her broken voice muffled by the bed sheets.
"What?" her sister asked back in Spanish. "Reyna, what's wrong?"
"Leave me alone."
"What? No," she said, and the bed bent down slightly as Hylla sat down next to her. "Is it Father again?"
Reyna didn't answer. She didn't want to talk with Hylla. She couldn't—wouldn't—understand.
About Father.
About her needs.
About her memories of the future.
All of this would be shown when Hylla chose to leave Thirteen-year-old Reyna to fend for herself, alone and broken, longing for a family she could never have.
Hylla never cared about Reyna, only about the idea of Reyna.
She never apologized, never even mentioned what she had done when they would see each other again.
"Come here," Hylla said as she pulled Reyna into her arms. The younger sister thought about pushing away, to deny herself from this illusion of comfort. It wasn't real; Hylla was only doing it because she felt obligated.
Nonetheless, Reyna let herself be rocked back and forth, basking in the slight warmth this embrace was capable of producing. Tears didn't come as she had expected, only persistent numbness, as if everything was gray and dull to the touch.
"I'll tell the Mistress you are not feeling well." Hylla said in a soft voice, "You just stay here and rest, hm?"
Reyna could only nod weakly. Rest could be good.
"Do you want me to take the day off too? We can go to the beach, like we used to?"
Her heart urged her to say yes, to spend time with Hylla, who—even though it was an illusion—was doing her best to show she cared for her. However, her mind was blaring alarms loudly in her head. She couldn't allow herself to connect with Hylla once more, as it would only make the inevitable separation hurt even more.
And since Reyna was a logical being at heart, she shook her head.
The sisters didn't exchange any further words as the minutes passed. Reyna could feel herself calming down, but in the back of her mind, the darkness lingered, like a predator stalking its prey. All it waited for was another moment of weakness before it would pounce and tear Reyna apart once more.
"I have to go now," Hylla eventually said, sounding reluctant to part ways—another illusion. "But I'll be back during my break. Will you be fine?"
Once more, Reyna could only nod, not trusting herself to speak.
The day passed, and nothing changed; Reyna just remained in bed, unable to do anything of substance.
She hated herself for that. There was nothing she wanted more than to get up and do something. An opportunity to change the world had been presented before her, and instead, she was falling down the chasm of weakness, letting it control her every thought and movement.
Hylla came by for short periods, and the darkness would dampen during her stay. But it was all an act, something that if Reyna started to depend on, would only leave her weaker when taken away.
How did it all happen so fast? She was fine just a day ago, maybe not happy, but content. Shouldn't that be enough? She figured that everything would finally turn around, and everything seemed to be headed that way. Then…
Happiness was not something she was entitled to. Reyna had accepted that fact the day she murdered her father.
She had accepted Circe's island burning down.
She had accepted Hylla leaving her.
She had accepted her friends and mentor's death in the Legion.
She had accepted spilling blood for the greater cause.
She had accepted the mantle of responsibility, to take on that burden, for no one could but her.
She had accepted Jason being ripped away from her.
She had accepted being branded a traitor by the people she sought to protect, by Octavian.
She had accepted Scipio's death.
She had accepted Jason's death.
She had accepted Dakota's death.
She wouldn't accept it all again.
No, she couldn't.
It would break her.