Grover is the satyr equivalent of 12-14 in the first book. He is a child.
When he was tasked with bringing Thalia to camp and failed he would have been at most 9 years old. He was traumatized by her death, and he no doubt blamed himself for it.
He was shamed by the cloven council at (max) 9 years of age for a death he would not have been strong or skilled enough to prevent. He knows the counsel would have preferred that he died trying to save her which likely would have ended up in his and Thalia's deaths. He sometimes wonders if he would have preferred that as well.
When he is trying to get Percy to camp safely Percy hears him muttering "sixth grade- they never make it past sixth grade!" A reference to Thalia and his first mission. Grover is knocked unconscious due to the minotaur but thankfully Percy is able to get to camp without dying. However, he loses his mom in the process. Another death Grover has on his conscience before she comes back.
Thalia, against all odds comes back as well and he's able to feel some kind of relief. He gets to see her alive again and can almost not feel guilty anymore. He starts to calm down, able to ease his own anxiety with the help of Percy and Annabeth. He works on no longer feeling like a failure.
Then he finds the Di Angelo's. The third and fourth big three kids Grover has stumbled across. He tries to hide his anxiety as he gets the two very young kids to camp, focusing on his task because he would not fail again.
They arrive safely to camp unfortunately at the cost of Annabeth being taken. He doesn't know what to feel. It seems his loved ones safety always comes with a sacrifice.
He's the first to volunteer for the quest for her after Thalia. He knows Percy wants to go as well and will not be happy that he can't but a part of Grover wants Percy to stay at camp. Stay where it's safe as selfish as that may be.
Of course his hopes of Percy staying put were unrealistic and he knew that. Percy was far too loyal to rest while someone he loves is in danger. He could sense Percy's anger and restlessness as soon as they left and he knew his best friend would catch up to them very soon.
Grover is now on a quest with three kids he found. Three kids he was tasked with protecting. Three kids from a group of five where two are fated to die.
Bianca is lost and Grover knows that unlike the last two, there is no hope for her return. Even then he digs through the rubble desperately, not stopping until Thalia pulls him away.
They are able to rescue Annabeth and return her to safety. But as always, the safety of his loved ones came with a cost. A sacrifice someone else had to make.
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@fluffbruary Day 3
Sea breeze is the worst, she decides.
Of all the reminders of her past love – and there is honestly little that doesn’t remind her of him – it is the one that most startles her, makes her heart trill with the memory of lying on the beach, him telling her stories, her lecturing him about Medusa, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
The scent of sea breeze lingering in the cosmetics shop makes her heartsick and wistful and angry all at once.
“Mom!” Her six-year-old son calls impatiently. He’s sitting on a stool, legs swinging back and forth, lazily taking in the new sights but still getting rapidly bored, like any child with ADHD. “Can we go?”
Every time she thinks of her twenty-two year old self - grieving her uncle, angry at the world, so sad, so tired – and the time she spent with him, she feels such a myriad of emotions waking, pressing at her. And then she looks at her son - her beautiful, mischievous, curious, kind, beloved son, perfect in every way, whom she would give the world for, and she’s glad for it, for every single second she had with his father that led to him being born.
“Yes, sweetheart.” She goes up to him and takes his hand. It curls around hers lightly, and it’s so small and all she can think of is how these small hands are one day destined to save the world, according to Poseidon. She pushes the thought away. Right now, these hands are hers to protect.
“Can we go to the candy shop again?” He asks brightly, tugging at her.
“I thought you wanted to buy Hannah a birthday present?” Sally asks, amused at his quick shift in mood and interest.
Percy frowns uncertainly, clearly considering the consequences of not getting his best friend a gift for her birthday. He sighs. “Yeah, I have to.”
Sally nods solemnly. “What do you want to get her, then?”
“Thread,” Percy decides.
She blinks. “Thread? Why?”
“Hannah likes art class,” Percy explains. “So maybe if I make her something, it’ll be nicer than just buying something from a shop!”
And for a moment Sally is on the coast, watching the crests of the waves as they swirled, and Poseidon is standing next to her, his voice brushing over her neck, causing shivers, telling her she could have whatever she wanted, and she is laughing, saying that changing the untamable sea into the shape of a trident and a rose was plenty.
She lets out a sigh and brushes her hand over Percy’s hair. “Absolutely. You’re right. What else do you want to buy?”
Percy furrows his eyebrows in concentration. “Woolen thread,” he said. “In blue colour. And paper. And glue. But that’s it.”
“And what is my little artist going to make with that?” She asks.
“There’s going to be a dragon,” Percy says, nodding determinedly. “And lots and lots of flowers.”
A dragon and flowers. Dear gods. Children.
“That sounds … unique,” she says dryly, trying not to imagine what a mess creating this piece was going to make.
“Because when someone is mean to one of us, the other fights like a dragon!” He says happily, lifting his hands in the shape of pincers and making adorable growling noises. “And then they get flowers for them the next day!”
“Oh,” Sally smiles, warmed. “That sounds beautiful, Percy.”
“You think she’ll like it?” He asks worriedly, chewing on his lip.
“You’re her best friend,” Sally assures. “She’ll like anything you give her, as long as you give it from the heart.” She pokes him in his chest, and he giggles.
“Silly mommy, the heart’s on the left side!” He says knowledgeably.
Sally fakes a horrified gasp. “Really? All these years and I thought it was right in the centre, only to be corrected by my baby boy … I’ve been betrayed!”
Percy giggles again, and Sally pulls him to the side, watching carefully to make sure he didn’t run or go too far into the middle of the road. Pedestrians curse and shove. The honking of horns and thick black smoke fills the air.
“Mom!” Percy says delightedly. “Can we go in there?” He’s pointing at a shop full of new shiny things, most of which Sally wouldn’t be able to afford on six months’ salary.
Her heart sinks. “Sweetheart—”
But Percy isn’t listening. He rushes into the shop, excitedly jabbering about all the things on display. “Percy!” She calls. She follows him, only to find him talking to a tall man with deep black hair such that it shone blue in the light, and eyes that were … identical to Percy’s.
She swallows as Poseidon looks up at her, and his whole face lights up.
“And is this your mother?” He asks Percy as Sally stands there, feeling as though her legs are stuck to the ground, as though a single movement would destroy the world.
“Yeah!” Percy says enthusiastically. “Mom!” He waves her over. “This is Mr. Kai!”
“It’s a pleasure to meet such a beautiful woman,” Poseidon says smoothly, winking at her.
Sally feels herself blush.
“Ugh, gross,” Percy says in the disgusted manner only kids had. “Mom, look at this thread!” He says, distracted. He holds up a luminous blue thread that seemed otherworldly. Her eyes meet Poseidon’s. They both know that the yarn is a rare commodity under the sea – she remembers when he showed it to her, when she was trying to get some writing done in the cabin, him complaining about her refusing to pay him attention. “It’s perfect!”
“Wonderful!” Poseidon says. “It’s on the house!”
Okay, that’s it. “I’m sorry … Kai.” She says politely, “But I can’t accept that.”
Poseidon has the recklessly cheerful grin Percy had inherited from him on his face. “And why not?”
Sally stares at him, exasperated, the mortification and the heart-fluttering fading away rapidly. “That’s. . .” She begins, gesturing at the thread. “Clearly expensive. You can’t just give it away.”
“Moooom!” Percy complains.
Poseidon leans against the counter, looking as casually handsome as he had six years ago. “I’m not just giving it away, though,” he says amusedly. “I’m giving it to one particular, awesome kid.”
“Yeah!” Percy cheers.
Poseidon looks at her, and she can see it on his face – if she really doesn’t want it, he’ll go. But he’s asking to give a gift to his son. Sally can’t deny him that. “Say thank you, Percy,” she says, giving in.
Both of them grin, identical green eyes shining. “Hannah’s going to love this present,” Percy says happily, tucking the ball of yarn carefully into his coat, patting it to secure it.
Poseidon and Sally exchange a look above his head – and for a moment she can pretend they are a family, and that he lives with them and is helping raise their son.
“Thank you, Mr. Kai!” Percy exclaims, ruining the illusion.
Poseidon smiles softly. “You’re welcome, Perseus.”
Percy furrows his eyebrows. “How d’you know my name?”
“I’ve seen you around,” he says. His smile fades. “And I have a feeling I’ll see you a lot more often now.”
Sally’s breath catches. No. Not now. Not yet. “He’s only six,” she pleads.
“I’m sorry, Sally,” Poseidon says, sounding troubled. “He’s powerful. And the Fates have marked him.”
Percy looks between them, confused.
“No,” she says. “I’ll – I’ll find a way. We need more time. Not yet.”
She can’t bear to think of leaving her child in the demigod camp, of not knowing what was going to happen, of leaving him - a child of the Big Three and potentially a prophecy child - in a place where people would try to use or kill him.
Poseidon sighs. “If anyone can, you can,” he says wistfully, and Sally swallows. His belief in her has always been inflexible, and she loves him for it. “Be careful, Sally.”
And he vanishes, leaving the scent of the sea breeze at the coast, and Sally has to close her eyes at the memories it brings up.
“Mom?”
“We’re going to be okay, sweetheart.” She whispers. “I swear.”
Percy beams a confused but full toothy smile at her, sea green eyes – identical to his father’s - glowing. “’Course we are, Mom.”
He may be growing, but he’s not grown up yet.
She still has time. She’ll figure something out.
He’ll be a hero one day, she thinks. He’s going to leave, and have to risk his life.
But not today. Not quite yet.
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