Well. My take on the Roman camp, and who Gwendolyn is. During the war for Mt. Othrys. Woo-hoo.

I don't own THE HEROES OF OLYMPUS, owing to the fact that I am not Rick Riordan. And I am happy about that, because I'd hate to be responsible for The Lost Hero. Or more importantly, Jason. Shudder. But he's managed to light my imagination on fire anyway.

Enjoy.

Musings of a Vapid Blonde Betrayer

(Or, Little Miss Perfect)

The battle. It filled her eyes with blood and gore, her ears with the sounds of death and her mind with guilt. But why on Earth should she feel guilty? It was always going to happen. They were always going to be stupid and stubborn and Roman, and try to cut the Titans off at their base. It didn't matter what she said, what she did, they would've done it.

She'd just picked the winning side, that's all. Okay, so maybe she wasn't considered as smart as her siblings, and maybe she thought how she looked was more important than the Pythagorean Theorem, but she was plenty smart, in her own way. She'd known a long, long time ago that rebellion was stirring. She'd smelt it in the air, felt it in her bones. Nobody would've believed her, not her, not the doll of the Minerva kids, so she hadn't said a thing. Not one word. And when the first inklings of it came to the Academy, she hadn't said I told you so. She hadn't said a thing, just continued filing her nails. Not her, not Gwendolyn, not the beauty queen daughter of Minerva.

And here she was, above it all, watching people she'd known for half of her life die. She'd seen Bobby fall under Crius' wrath. She'd watched the first cracks appear in Jason's armour. She'd seen Hazel do something rash and reckless for what must've been the first time in her life. She'd watched her charge a Titan. And she'd watched her die. So had Jason. He'd stood there, watching, and when she was on ground, with a sword in her stomach, he'd rushed to her side. She'd watched them trying to talk to each other, she'd watched the tears pour down his face and she'd seen Hazel's mouth move. She'd watched Jason nod, trying to grasp at this final chance of closure with Hazel. And when she was obviously gone, she'd watched him stand up and watch Michael die with an arrow in his neck.

That was when she had come down from her place on the top-most roof of the Titan's palace. She knew that the grief would probably cause Jason to start using that stubborn Roman-ness they'd all been born with and do something stupid. That's what she had always done, back when she'd preferred to read fairy tales over curling her hair. Back when she'd hated her mom for always saying, Gwendolyn, doll, put the book down. It's time for your princess hair and sparkle eyes.

She'd thought that when she got to the Academy, it would be different. No more pageants, no more princess hair and sparkle eyes. She would finally belong. But she hadn't belonged, not one bit. She wasn't Minerva enough for the Minerva kids, because she knew how to curl her hair and make her eyes look bigger in the light, and she didn't know elementary physics. She wasn't Venus enough for the Venus girls, because, hello? Everyone knew that reading made your eyes strain and glasses were just. Not. Sexy. So she'd stopped trying to belong, and she'd become Minerva's doll.

But she wasn't a doll anymore, not now. Or if she was, then she was Sexy-War Barbie. Her ash blonde hair in a loose bun around her head, her cameo-and-leather outfit, her unused sword at her side. It was all calculated, all planned out. And when she stepped out in front of Jason as he fought his way to the throne room where Crius would be, she saw that her work had been effective. He took in how different she looked from Hazel, who'd always been ethereal and gorgeous and above it all, a fallen angel on a battlefield. Or even Reyna, who looked every bit the warrior-princess with her fierce expression and bow-and-arrow pointed directly at you. Gwendolyn, on the other hand, looked like she'd been fighting. She looked like she had been through what Jason had gone through, and that was what he needed right now.

And they said she wasn't smart.

Even so, he doesn't put his sword down. She didn't expect him to. They were both Roman, weren't they? Romans weren't supposed to be trusting. They were supposed to be strong. And in their own different ways, they both were. Strong and staring each other down.

Gwendolyn knew how to keep eye contact. It's how she became Little Miss Perfect, staring the judges down during her flaming baton routine. But while they stood there, in their own personal bubble with the battle raged around them, something changed. They weren't enemies, not anymore. Maybe they never were. They were just Jason and Gwendolyn, two people who didn't know what they're fighting for. She smiled at him. He smiled back. It was a taste of friendship for her, something she had never had the chance to taste before.

It tasted sweet, like honey and summer and marshmallows, all rolled into one.

And Gwendolyn knew that it would have to last her forever, that small taste of something more, because her forever was coming up pretty damn soon. Because she'd decided to do something stupid. Something stubborn. Something Roman.

She'd decided to plunge her sword into the chest of Crius' second-in-command, his right-hand man. And when she died in an explosion more powerful than the core of the stars, it was with the taste of honey and summer and marshmallows in her mouth.

I was inspired by Taylor and Tiara in Beauty Queens, by Libba Bray, and by Chapter 20 in Angels and Demons by WishingAwayMoments. Also, I love the idea of a child of Athena/Minerva who isn't considered smart. It blows my puny mortal mind. I did wonder if she was getting too similar to Silena, but then I remembered that Silena was a brunette. All better.

I think Hazel might be next, if there is a next. Review, for they are love.