Chapter 95 - Normality

Winter had overtaken Camp Half-Blood. The trees were covered in snow, and the biting wind seemed to pierce down to the bone.

Ikki walked calmly, feeling the coldness of the environment not only on his skin but also within himself. His mission had been accomplished—he had brought Bianca and Nico safely to camp, fulfilling his promise to Hades. He had decided to stay for a while to spend time with his friends and the people he cared about.

But his decision turned out to be more difficult than he had anticipated.

In truth, he was ready to return to normal and spend time as an ordinary half-blood at Camp Half-Blood. However, with Percy and Zoë's nightmares about the woman he loved being in danger weighing on him, he felt somewhat lost.

The idea of returning to a normal life, of being just another camper, seemed so distant, as if he were a spectator in his own life.

He had signed up for a javelin-throwing class, something he had never done before, but he felt the need to get involved in camp activities, to try to regain a normal routine. When he arrived at the training area, he noticed the Ares camper in charge seemed surprised to see him.

The son of Zeus wasn't exactly popular among the Ares campers for having defeated the God of War himself, but that didn't mean they didn't respect him. The camper's surprise quickly turned into an expression of admiration. He was awestruck by Ikki, a camper who, in his eyes, seemed to carry a silent power, like a storm about to break.

The javelin-throwing training began in a more relaxed atmosphere. Ikki watched as the Ares camper demonstrated the movement, his strong, athletic body reflecting the discipline of the god of war. Percy, who had also come to the class, stood beside him, creating a bit of tension. Though Percy was well-meaning, his irreverent and impulsive nature clashed with the discipline of the training.

This was something the Ares campers particularly despised.

As the Ares camper gave instructions, Ikki felt strangely out of place, as if his hands didn't know what to do with the javelin. The sound of the javelin cutting through the wind, the precision of the other campers' movements—it all seemed so natural to them. For him, it was just another activity to fill the void growing in his mind.

It was easy to hit a target.

Percy, on the other hand, was having fun. He seemed more concerned with making jokes about the others' posture or trying to throw javelins in completely wrong ways, but to him, it was just a way to ease the tension. When he threw a javelin before the Ares camper had moved out of the way, the impact was so sudden that it left the camper in trouble. The javelin tore a hole in the Ares camper's pants, and he reacted with restrained fury.

Ikki watched the scene with mild amusement, knowing that Percy probably wouldn't grasp the gravity of the situation. He was just being himself, unaware of the consequences of his actions.

The Ares camper, however, was irritated and, without a second thought, sent Percy away, enraged by his impulsive behavior. Percy just smiled, finding the situation amusing, but Ikki noticed the tension in the Ares camper's eyes. It wasn't just an innocent mistake but an affront to his authority—something he wasn't willing to tolerate.

When Percy was expelled from the class, Ikki decided to leave as well. It seemed that some things hadn't changed over the past year; the incident made him realize that the relationship between the Ares campers and Percy would always be strained.

Ikki chose to leave too, but instead of following Percy to the archery class, the sense of disconnection lingered as he headed toward the stables.

He felt there was something unresolved, something within himself. He no longer wanted to be the distant camper with a purpose that kept him apart from everyone. But when he arrived at the stable, he found Silena arguing with one of Artemis's Hunters. They stood there, exchanging harsh words, their expressions tense. Silena seemed nervous, and the Hunter looked ready to explode at any moment. When Ikki arrived, the tension eased, and the Hunter, visibly irritated, left without another word, leaving them alone.

Silena looked at Ikki, her expression softening momentarily, but there was something in her gaze that Ikki couldn't identify. She seemed different, as if she was trying to hide something. She quickly turned to him, forcing a smile, but there was something strange about her posture.

"Ikki... I... didn't expect to see you here," she said, her voice slightly tense.

Ikki didn't know how to respond. Her presence was comforting, yet at the same time, he felt that something was off. Was Silena lying to him?

"I decided to take a walk here. I didn't expect to find you in this place, either. But assuming it's your favorite spot, I guess I shouldn't be surprised..."

Silena nodded quickly, her eyes avoiding his. She seemed to be searching for the right words, but instead, she just offered a rushed excuse.

"I need to go. I have some things to take care of," she said, her voice now softer but hurried.

Ikki watched her walk away, feeling an even greater emptiness settle within him. He knew she was hiding something, but he didn't have the courage to ask. Maybe it was better that way. He no longer knew how to connect with the people around him, no longer knew how to fit into this place that once felt so familiar.

After a while, Ikki left the stables and walked toward the chariot depot.

The place was empty, the war chariots and carts stood in the shadows, covered in snow. He sat on the cold ground, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked at the horizon. Down in the archery fields, Chiron was leading the campers in training, helping Percy with his practice.

But Ikki didn't have the strength to join them.

The centaur noticed him from afar, noting his distant posture. Chiron knew Ikki was feeling lost, but he interpreted it as grief for his mother's death. Thus, he decided not to approach, respecting Ikki's space as he always had.

Ikki appreciated this gesture of understanding. He looked toward Half-Blood Hill.

At the top, Mr. D and Argus were feeding the baby dragon that guarded the Golden Fleece. The dragon looked so small but strong, a symbol of the protection the camp offered.

He observed the scene for a moment, feeling the absence of something. What was he doing here, after all? He should have been hunting Luke and Kronos, not lingering in the camp's tranquility.

In a different direction, he saw Thalia and Annabeth walking together near the hill. The two were engaged in an animated conversation, probably about something trivial. But for Ikki, it only heightened his sense of disconnection. Everything around him seemed so familiar, yet he felt so distant.

...

Olympus, Temple of Aphrodite.

In a part of the gods' domain stood the Temple of Aphrodite, set on a sunlit hill—a jewel sculpted in rose-colored marble, every architectural detail exuding the very essence of love ...every architectural detail exuding the very essence of love. The delicately carved columns, entwined with flowering vines, supported arches adorned with reliefs of immortal romances. The air was imbued with the scent of freshly bloomed flowers and exotic perfumes, creating an atmosphere that could make any mortal heart falter with passion.

Aphrodite stood there, her slender silhouette framed against the orange and golden sky. The gentle breeze played with her wavy, shimmering golden hair that cascaded like a luminous waterfall down to her waist. Her ivory silk tunic, adorned with golden accents, seemed like an extension of her skin, moving with the softness of a sea breeze.

Despite all the beauty and serenity around her, her face was marked by an expression of unease.

Her eyes, usually full of seduction and confidence, now gazed at the horizon with a melancholy that seemed out of place for a goddess so exalted. Memories of the recent past invaded her mind with overwhelming force. It was impossible to push away the image of Ikki, the son of Zeus, from her thoughts—especially now that she had heard of his return.

Two years had passed since she last saw him, and yet, the memory of his presence still echoed in every corner of her temple and her soul.

Ikki was unlike the other heroes who had crossed her path.

He did not bow before her, nor did he succumb to her inescapable charm. There was something in his sapphire-blue eyes, a depth she rarely encountered in mortals. He challenged her with simple but cutting words, revealing a truth she had never admitted to herself—exposing that she had become a distorted goddess of love who had lost sight of her own domain.

The words still resonated in her mind, like a painful echo of a lesson she had reluctantly learned.

She remembered their conversation that day: Ikki did not want the fleeting, superficial love she always offered to others, but something deeper, something truer. Something that, even as the goddess of love, she wasn't sure she could provide.

He had convinced her to change.

There was something extraordinary in those sapphire eyes, a depth that defied mortal nature. He was different from anyone she had ever known, and in a way, he made her want to be different too.

From that day on, she had committed herself to a life of dignity, refraining from the fleeting indulgences that once defined her existence. She avoided the touch of any other man and devoted herself entirely to redefining her domain of love. She didn't want to disappoint him; the thought of not living up to the expectations he had unintentionally placed upon her was unbearable.

Aphrodite closed her eyes, letting the soft breeze caress her face like a silent consolation.

She remembered the moment she realized that Ikki had fallen in love with Artemis, the virgin goddess. The pain of his rejection still lingered in her heart, a wound that refused to heal—she, as the goddess of love, knew everything that happened within her realm. She had watched what unfolded that day.

Artemis, with her rigid demeanor and indifference, could not reciprocate Ikki's love. But what disturbed Aphrodite more deeply was that, even after being rejected, Ikki still reserved a place in his heart for Artemis.

And she, the embodiment of love, could not fill that space.

"Why not me?"

The question escaped her lips in a whisper, heavy with sadness and regret.

Her wounded pride mixed with a bitter envy she couldn't ignore. She, who had always been desired by everyone, now desired something she could not have.

And that reality was a pain the goddess was not accustomed to facing.

Yes, she had realized it—what began as a lustful desire for the young man had grown into something more. Her mistake had been watching him whenever she could. The love she had always believed to be her domain now enveloped her in a way she had never experienced before.

As time passed, the feeling only deepened. Every thought of him, every memory of his serene smile, of those sapphire-blue eyes that seemed to decipher her soul, made her heart beat faster. The way he made her feel vulnerable and, at the same time, stronger than ever. It was a contradiction that fascinated and terrified her. This was not mere fleeting affection; it was profound, rooted in who he was and in who she had become because of him. She knew that love, when true, could not be ignored or discarded, and the love she felt for him was proof of that.

He had changed the course of her existence—not with promises or possessions, but with the simple essence of who he was.

Aphrodite walked slowly to the marble balustrade, her delicate hands brushing against its cool surface as she looked down at the world below. The golden light of the setting sun cast a radiant glow on her figure, but the warmth did not reach her heart.

Ikki's rejection by Artemis had been a wound for him, but also a missed opportunity for her. She knew that if she had been the one to receive Ikki's love, she would not have rejected him. She would have accepted him, loved him with all the intensity he deserved.

"I'm not like her..." she murmured to herself, her voice laden with emotion. "I wouldn't have let him walk away with a broken heart. I would have loved him as he deserves to be loved."

The irony of her feelings made her feel more human than divine. She, who had always been the epitome of love and beauty, now faced the pain of unrequited love—the agony of not being enough for someone. But she liked to believe she had done the right thing to help him. She had spoken to Artemis, convincing her to be gentler, knowing full well how it would all end. She was willing to do whatever she could to see him happy.

With a deep sigh, Aphrodite stepped away from the balustrade.

She vanished in a fragrant pink cloud, as delicate as the breeze that carried the scent of the flowers surrounding her temple. The essence of love that always accompanied her permeated the air, leaving a subtle yet unmistakable trace, like a memory refusing to fade away.

As the cloud slowly dissipated, Aphrodite's temple returned to its usual silence, but her absence was almost palpable, as if the place had lost part of its light.