Oaths Sworn on the RIver Styx

Disclaimer: I don't own PJatO or HoO

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Leo Valdez tied a rope to the moor, securing the makeshift raft as it gently bobbed up and down to the ocean waves. He lingered just a while longer on the raft. To the canvas sail and the Celestial bronze console. To Calypso, the beautiful, tempered and not-so-sweet-anymore immortal Leo had shared his first kiss with. Leo wasn't fidgeting with his belt or his hands as he would normally, what with having an uncanny amount of nervous energy. Instead he was still, unmoving, silent in mourning. His throat and chest tightened like it always did when ever he was upset or angry.

Regaining some of the movement in his limbs, Leo grunted as he pushed himself up to the docks. He stubbornly walked through the streets of the city, making his way to the fortifications that separated the city from the sea, pushing it back as if it was forbidden from both the wonders and dangers in the waters. Leo reached his destination and spotted an open cafe that let the sea breeze in. He glanced at an empty spot near the edge of the border, daring someone to fall off the railing and into the water below. Fingering the pockets of his jeans, he wondered if... He pulled out a heavy pouch full of different currencies of mortal cash and smiled sadly.

Calypso really did provide me everything I needed on that island - whatsis' name - Oh-gee-gee-ah?

He counted out four Euros and approached the counter, hoping the person taking orders knew English or Spanish. Leo desperately needed a drink. Any drink. As long as it had lot's and lot's of caffeine. He needed to get his usual hyped self back up and running, instead of being drained and empty of life like...like a broken person. He realised with a grimace that that was exactly what he was: broken - into pieces. And when something is scattered in pieces, it takes a while to put it back together.

Walking up, Leo seriously hoped the dark-haired man at the counter knew English as he began to order. "I'd like a, ahhh..." At that point, Leo realised he had no idea what he wanted. To cover his mistake, he quickly sputtered out the first drink he knew had a substantial amount of caffeine that came to his mind. "Coffee!" He winced afterwards. Why did he say that? He didn't even like coffee.

Oh well, too late for me to NOT look like an idiot tourist.

The man at the counter regarded him, raising an eyebrow. "What kind," he said, relieving Leo with the fact he spoke English, but at the same time making the former feel stupid at the question.

"A, uh, regular Cappuccino, thanks."

Minutes later Leo received his Cappuccino and walked rather glumly to the spot he saw earlier, near the edge of the borders. He took a seat and a sip of his coffee, making a face at the bitter taste, but resigning to the fact that it would give him back his hyperactive self.

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Leo stayed there for another half hour or so, during which he saw the Argo II fly by and land on the shore of a nearby bay below. He hardly acknowledge the ship, too wistful to run down and greet his friends. He was in no rush, and needed alone time to accept what had happened.

He couldn't stop thinking of her, of Calypso. He stared at the cappuccino, the froth separating and revealing a rich gold-brown colour. The same colour as her braided hair. Leo couldn't erase her angry, but sad almond eyes. He remembered all their deadly fights and friendly conversations. The way she was ill-tempered at him and the gods, but at times revealing her sweet, caring side. Her melodic voice, entrapping him every time he heard her speak and sing. Her soft lips smashing onto his own, chapped ones, eyes closed and letting him breathe in her sweet cinnamon scent...

Calypso had avoided him, at first, raging that he had ruined her tranquility and peace by demolishing her dining table, cursing at the possibility that she was stuck with him forever. In response, Leo waved her off as an annoying prissy girl, determined to find a way off the uncharted island without her help. But then she told him of her curse and her pain, and Leo felt his heart grow sore and sympathetic. Over the next week, she surprisingly began to warm up to and care for him, and he, in turn, grew attached to her and welcomed her company. By the end of the week he crushed on the immortal, maybe even loved her. Only, he didn't realise it until it was too late.

His coffee still lay unfinished, still having a little left of the milky liquid. The caffeine didn't seem to be taking effect, yet; Leo was still as glum and drained as he was on the trip to Malta hours earlier. It was unfair, he thought, that Calypso had to endure her curse, still. The gods had promised Percy to offer amnesty to their prisoners. Calypso had hoped, but to no avail. She was forgotten, and so left to continue her life living a dreaded curse. Feeling the rage and hate boiling inside him at the unfairness of it all, Leo clenched his fists and glared at his coffee, as if it were to blame for all of this...this cruelty. He was angry at the Olympians, even his dad, Hephaestus, for withdrawing from Calypso and breaking their oath of forgiveness and pardon. He was angry at all the heroes who had encountered Calypso and made her fall under their spell, only to abandon her every time. Most of all, he was angry at himself, for leaving with her love and joining in the long line of pigs who had broken her heart.

Leo dug his nails into his palm and averted his eyes away from the coffee, instead focusing on the speckled floor.

I have to stop thinking of her and her curse like this. It won't make me feel any better.

Leo glanced at the clock face opposite him in the cafe. Nearly twenty three minutes had passed since he saw the Argo II land. He figured that it was only a matter of time now before Jason and the others discovered their lost crew member.

As he waited for his friends, Leo subconsciously tugged on his white shirt and scuffed his hair, making it seem even more messy and untended. He lay a hand on the cafe table, the other resting on the white handle of his cup of coffee. With deep brown eyes and a hard, sad expression, he stared out to the sea and watched the setting sun, which coloured the sky with an array of warm yellows and pinks. Leo recalled those last words he had spoken as he drifted further from Calypso's home and prison, on the magic raft. He recalled the dangerous, most binding oath he made to Calypso: to one day come back to the island; to her.

Leo thought again of the third line of the New Great Prophecy: An oath to keep with a final breath. He had taken a leap of faith, binding his life and maybe even more to the oath he made to Calypso.

Never in his life had he been more sure of a decision he'd made.

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