Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It didn’t feel like the quest was over.

Dionysus brought him home in a godly snap of static power, like those drop-rides at amusement parks, that made his stomach swoop before settling still vaguely nauseous. The lightning bolt was delivered, Percy was back at Camp, and for the next few miserable days after, he waited for the other two to come back as well.

Lee did, Silena did not.

It didn’t feel real.

He’d seen her just a few days before, on that canyon beach in Utah. She was alive, she was strong, and then she was dead.

The funeral pyre was taller than him. It was about six feet tall, two tiers of wooden pallets and at the top where a body would have rested was a empty shroud and two coins.

The shroud itself was beautiful, covered in flowers and doves and laced with pearls, but it was a sad iteration of what it was meant to represent. 

Lee stood next to Percy, hands wrapped in a bulky yellow cast with messages written in sharpie etched all over it. He stared emptily at he unlit pyre, and when the torch was offered to him, Percy took it. It was weighty, a thick piece of cypress that held carvings of circular mazes, a scripture to Hermes, and the image of a river curling along the handle of it. It blazed steadily and washed heat over his face and hands. 

When he touched it to the bottom of the pyre, the flame travelled easily, racing up the tower to eat away at the shroud. 

Someone took the torch delicately from his hands, he didn't register who, but the white waft of smoke from its extinguishing stung at his eyes. The pyre burned bright with the sacrifice of countless flowers, letters, fragrant powders; all consumed by the flames. Silena’s siblings threw ceramic pots of makeup, locks of hair, and small wreaths of laurels into the fire.

Lee was quick to leave. Michael Yew wasn't far behind him, hovering next to him with pinched care.

Percy can only continue to stare at the fire. At one point, the entire Aphrodite Cabin joined him, surrounded him, and murmured comforting words amongst themselves. Sometimes they addressed him directly with a hand on the shoulder or by handing him something to throw in. They nestled around him comfortably and without prompting, sharing in the heaviness.

Eventually the youngest ones had to leave though, their cheeks wet with tears. For them, this may very well have been the first demigod funeral they’d attended. Lacy, only seven years old, curled up right next to him, burrowing into his side for warmth before promptly falling asleep.

Percy stayed there even after she’d been carefully extracted and carried back to their cabin for bed.

Sometimes, his mind would replay moments or memories or it would spiral into all the possibilities that could have been. Other times, his thoughts were tortuously empty, and it was just him and the crackle of the sparks from fire. The heat of it hovered over his face uncomfortably, slowly burning him at the front while the cool night air made goosebumps raise along his back.

Someone draped a blanket over his shoulders and pulled him gently up and away. He didn’t even know who they were, just kept his head down and focused on walking wherever they tugged him.

The loss swept over him like the tide, and he couldn’t even fight it. Couldn’t run from it either, or so Dionysus told him.

When his mother came, it was like he’d found a sturdy tree in a hurricane.

And she said she would stay. This time, she would stay.

Chapter Text

Sally Jackson was even weirder than her son.

At least Percy Jackson had the excuse of being a demigod —and thus automatically forgiven for some quirks— but Annabeth just couldn’t put her finger on what it was about his mother that threw her off. All evidence pointed to her simply being a normal, loving, mortal mother.

Maybe it was because Sally was fully mortal? She was the first one Annabeth had actually seen who was able to enter camp, much less be allowed an extended stay. Or maybe it was the look that came across her face every now and then; when something would catcher her eye and she’d look at it with excited curiosity only for that glow to dim just as fast for some inscrutable reason.

Annabeth couldn’t figure out why. What was that woman thinking? What was she trying to accomplish here? It made no sense!

Rather uncharitably, the thought came forth that Ms. Jackson had no business sticking her nose into their world.

Sally Jackson spent half her time talking with Chiron and the rest of her time writing things down in a notebook she always carried. Like some kind of researcher, she’d hop from one nymph to another with questions abound. One time, Annabeth caught her asleep under the shade of a tree, just on the edge of the strawberry fields. The brown leather notebook had been held loosely to her chest her head slumped to the side and her eyes closed. Annabeth had started to step closer intending to wake her, but the tree’s nymph emerged half way out of the trunk to shoo her away from the woman.

She even let one of the Cloven Elders lecture her for an hour about sustainable chariot construction.

They don’t even use chariots anymore.

It was like every corner of the camp simultaneously accepted and embraced Sally Jackson’s presence. Even the campers that didn’t like her at first grew to grudgingly respect her. She wasn’t mean or even particularly assertive, she was just there.

Like a very persistent splinter. The kind that only hurts when something brushes against it randomly. The invisible ones that you almost forget are there.

At least there was still one camper who still avoided her completely.

Lee Fletcher.

After his quest, and the terrible fate of Silena Beauregard, Lee had become very focused on training. He was now only ever seen in three places; the medical ward, near Chiron, or the shooting range where he’d be loosing arrow after arrow for hours. He’d stopped coming to the camp fire singalongs too, electing to study medical textbooks out on the porch of the Apollo cabin instead. At least the area was well lit (by a frankly obscene number of string-lights that hung from every surface) so he wouldn’t be straining his eyes.

Normally, she would respect his space.

Normally, she would never even dare ask anything of him.

And normally, Luke wouldn’t be a factor in it.

But things weren’t normal, and Luke very much was the deciding factor here. He needed help and she wasn’t sure if he’d actually willingly ask for it. So she needed to find someone who could help, and then ask for him.

The only person for the job was, unfortunately, Lee.

The night was cool, summer was coming to an end, and the sound of singing and laughing drifted from the firepit as she left and approached the Apollo cabin’s counselor. Lee was reading again. Curled up in yellow bean bag chair, his hair was pulled back by a dark blue cloth headband, and a plate of leftovers from dinner sat on the ground next to him untouched. She watched him reach for a mug of steaming coffee instead.

Annabeth had come up to the porch before she’d even thought of what to say.

Her mouth was dry, the awkward dread curled tight in her stomach, and she fidgeted with one of the beads on her camp necklace.

Lee glanced up, as if to prompt her to speak, and suddenly it all felt like a terrible idea. He looked almost as bad as Luke, dark circles shadowed his eyes and his skin seemed to have lost the intrinsic natural glow that most Apollo kids had. It felt cruel to ask him to do anything except take a nap and eat some more food.

But Luke was more important to her. “Would you be willing to check up on Luke? I- He doesn’t look well.” and neither do you, she wanted to say but held her tongue.

Lee looked back down at his book for a moment before nodding sharply. He closed it softly, set it down on the floor beside the coffee and plate of brisket and fruit, and stood, stretching his hand up until the joints in his spine popped.

“Sure. Where is he?”

“I didn’t see him after dinner, so I think he’d be in the cabin. Or Thalia’s tree. Ever since- um…” Annabeth felt like she was just digging herself a deeper hole, she was no good with people, and here she was about to talk about Silena to Lee.

Selina’s death hit everyone hard, but aside from Lee and Percy, Luke had been one of the most affected. He had started visiting Thalia more often. It was her working theory that he was struggling with some survivors guilt. After all, he was initially supposed to go on the quest, not Silena.

She...had no comparison for how he was feeling right now. There was nothing she could use to make a logical conclusion. It was all emotions and memory and neither of those were easy for her to deduce. She was sad as well, loss was never an easy thing, it made her think of Thalia and sometimes she thought she understood. But there was a depth to what Lee and Luke seemed to be feeling that she couldn’t grasp.

For once, she didn’t want to know.

“Let’s go to the cabin first, it’s closer.” Lee walked sedately past her, and she scrambled to catch up, falling in step behind him.

They passed the Hephaestus cabin and Lee sped up just the tiniest bit.

Most everyone was at the singalong, but there were always a few loners who would remain in their cabins. That in itself wasn’t odd, but when they stepped through the threshold of the Hermes cabin, the tension in the room was palpable.

At the back of the cabin, near to where the bathrooms were, a small crowd of older campers gathered. Some stood, some sat on the bunks, but all of them looked worried. 

At first, they didn’t even register that Lee had even entered the cabin, but a few more steps inside and he was noticed. Connor and Travis jumped to their feet, poking and pawing at their siblings to make them leave. The communication was silent and swift and soon enough, the cabin was empty. Everyone except for the Stolls, Annabeth, and Lee had been herded out.

Connor jabbed a thumb in the direction of the bathroom, immediately and remorselessly giving up any pretense, “He’s puking his guts out.”

Travis just massaged his temples and closed his eyes, groaning, “Can you fix him because I really don’t want his job.”

Despite their joking and whining, Annabeth could tell they were genuinely concerned. 

Lee sighed while the two started to bicker about which of them would be counselor if Luke were to ‘kick the bucket’. And which of them would take over his bunk.

Annabeth rolled her eyes at their antics and made to follow Lee but was stopped by a hand held in front of her, “It’s probably best for you to stay out here. It might be contagious.” He told her, wincing as the very distinct sound of someone throwing up reached them.

She was feeling a bit sick herself just hearing it. “...Yeah, I’ll be out here if you need anything.” She stepped back, taking a seat on one of the closer beds.

Lee went in alone and she strained her ears to try and eavesdrop. Was Luke sick with something serious? Was it food poisoning? A prank gone wrong? Whatever conversation the two teens had in there, it was too quiet for her to catch. She only saw Lee emerge, carrying Luke over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. His t-shirt had a stain on the sleeve and it was obvious that this had quickly turned into something serious.

Travis and Connor jumped in alarm, “Is he gonna be ok?” “I was just joking about his bunk, he can keep it!”

Annabeth felt her stomach plunge and dread kept her frozen in place.

Lee’s face was grim as he carried Luke out and Luke didn’t even fight him on it.

It took her a few moments to realize that Lee was actually walking quite quickly, everything had seemed slower, before she jolted to her feet and was out the door at a sprint. Crossing the quad to her own cabin she rushed to find her baseball cap. She needed to know what was wrong with Luke.

Sneaking around was easy if you were invisible. It was another thing to sneak close enough to hear what all was being said an another to also stay out of the way as an absolute flurry of healers converged on the healing ward. She didn’t know who had told who but between her leaving the Hermes cabin, getting her cap, and relocating where Lee had taken Luke, Chiron and half the Apollo cabin were there.

Heights weren’t her thing, but she scaled the rafters anyway.

Luke was laid out on a cot and she laid herself on the beam almost directly above him. He looked pale and sweaty, his hair stuck to his forehead and she couldn’t tell if he was even lucid anymore, let alone conscious. Her heart raced and her hands shook.

Chiron, Lee, and Michael Yew were having a fast-paced conversation, almost talking over each other as they shot out ideas.

“I knew he wasn’t doing great but I thought it was a mix of stress and residual effect from whatever he had before.”

“This is different,” Lee shook his head, “The symptoms are different; before it was nausea, a slight fever, and some dizziness, but this almost looks like anemia or some kind of advanced infection.”

“It could be poison.” Chiron rumbled gravely.

That brought the other two to a split-second halt. Such a thing hadn’t occurred to them. It hadn’t occurred to Annabeth either. Poison? Who would want to poison Luke?

“Whatever it is, we’re on a clock,” Lee squeezed his eyes together a few times, blink rapidly as if to clear them, “We need…” he rocked on his heels as his ran through a mental list, “A saline drip to keep him hydrated first and foremost. Check for signs of infection. We can get him started on a slow drip of antibiotics too while we're at it.”

One of the other medics scurried up to the group, “We swabbed the buccal cavity with ambrosia. He seems more stable but…”

Michael Yew only needed to glance at Luke to catch what the medic wasn’t saying, “It stabilized him some but it didn’t help heal him. He’ll likely continue to deteriorate if we don’t figure out quickly what he has and how to treat it.”

Chiron muttered a prayer and rested a hand on Lee’s shoulder, “You should rest now while you can, we will need to look into this carefully, but for now he will be fine.”

Lee looked about to argue but Yew glared at him, “You’re a great healer, but you won’t be any help if you end up on a cot next to him. Take a nap.”

Lee’s shoulders sagged, and it made him seem very small to her. On the way to the Hermes cabin and even as he was carrying Luke out, she had thought that he looked strong and capable, if a little tired. But now it was like the light blinked out of him and whatever energy he’d grasped in the moment slid through his fingers again.

He slipped through the door of the infirmary like a grey wraith.

But then Annabeth looked back down at Luke, asleep (or unconscious) on the white cot, and had to put Lee and his problems out of her mind. She climbed back down from the rafters now that everyone wasn’t rushing around, and stood as if she’d just walked in through the door. Taking her hat off, she waited until someone noticed her.

Michael saw her first and she gestured to a chair in the corner a ways away from Luke, “Can I stay?” It was practically across the room but she knew if she asked to sit beside him the answer would be a resolute no. This was her best bet.

He just sighed and waved a hand like he had better things to be doing than arguing it out with her. Which, to be fair, he did.

She settled in to the hard plastic chair that was too far away and one of the Apollo kids was nice enough to find her a book to flip through. It would be a long night, but she just couldn’t bring herself to leave right then. She could go crazy and research everything in existence in the morning. For now, she was just grateful she had the courage to ask Lee for help.

Because she’d been right, Luke hadn’t told anyone anything and look where it’d got him.

Chapter Text

Amphitrite

A dowry had been sent to Atlantis.

A veritable fleet of chariots filled with precious items and chests of drachmas stood at the steps of the palace. The chariots were drawn by pairs of large star-furred foxes, one of which slipped its yoke and bounded up to her with a letter held gingerly in its jaws.

Tyche was ever a loyal sister it seemed, as Poseidon had chosen that time to be absent from the Palace. No one needed him to fly-off the handle just yet. But Nemesis was as vindictive as her twin was generous, so Amphitrite called for everything to be put away quickly and discretely lest he come home too soon.

While merfolk scrambled to erase any hint of the dowry gifts, she read the letter.

It was filled to the brim with superfluous details and endlessly flattering language, written in such angular and condensed cursive that Amphitrite had some difficulty deciphering it.

It was clear that Nyx had written it, there was no doubt as to her unique scrawl, however Amphitrite doubted she had come up with the contents herself. The rhetoric read as if it bled directly from Hemera’s pen and it was likely that the only line Nyx had actually thought up was the last one.

“The House of Night extends our best wishes to you, along with our petition to join our two families through divine matrimony.

Best regards,

Nyx.”

Amphitrite felt a headache building, she just could not catch a break it seemed. A shimmer to the lettering caught her eyes, making her examine it just a little closer. Then she closed them, wishing she hadn't looked. Did she sign this letter with her ichor?!

She was quick to ensure all the gifts were hidden away before she fully retreated to her study. The swim there felt shorter than normal, she barely recalled getting there at all, she was so shaken. The letter hadn’t specified who it was for, but only one of her children was currently unaccounted for.

Several deep breaths did nothing to help. Her hands start to shake and glow, the power of her unraveling form burned up the fragile parchment until it glimmered in the form tiny particles in the water, instantly disintegrated. She can’t decide between laughing and crying. This must have something to do with Triton’s aversion to the underworld.

She wasn’t stupid, but she had long since stopped questioning him about it. She wasn’t in the habit of forcing answers out of her eldest son, but now she was regretting it.

Hades had returned all vested powers to Triton days ago, she had felt it in the tides. He would have been perfectly free to return but still hadn’t arrived at home. She’d let it go. Thinking he would arrive in his own time, she’d focused instead on making sure Sally was fit for travel back to the surface. She’d focused instead on the conclusion to Percy’s quest.

Triton was always so independent. Strong and stable. It hadn’t occurred to her that he could be in danger.

It was all her fault and she couldn’t help the thought that she’d traded one child for the other. She had sent him to the underworld, it was because of her that Triton was gone. Kidnapped.

And this farce of a proposal that was sent to them. It was insulting.

She was starting to hate the Underworld as a whole. She wouldn't care what those Chthonic deities did if they would just leave her family alone!

Amphitrite paced...She would have to tell Poseidon too.

She groaned and approached the wall just to smack her head against it. That hothead would no doubt try to wage war over it. Not that she wouldn’t like to as well, but to challenge the House of Night was nothing short of a war of attrition. She could feel her face heat even as frustrated tears only dissolved into the salt water.

Swimming up to the coral shelf that held her scrying curtain, she settled on the plush cushion of the kélyfosédra and sent out some energy, searching for the correct mind. Sally Jackson was asleep it seemed. Even better for her, as dreams were easier to manipulate. Amphitrite morphed Sally’s dream to resemble the beach at Montauk before more fully stepping onto her imaginary sand. She called out to her, “I hope this is alright... I wanted to speak with you.”

Sally jumped, whirling around to face her instead of the waves, “Holy sh-! You can show up in my dreams?!”

She gave a weak smile for an answer.

“You know what? I’m not surprised.” Sally sat down in the sand and patted the area next to her, “You wanted to talk?”

Amphitrite sat down carefully, “I received a… dowry intended for Triton.” There wasn’t really any good way to put it.

“Excuse me, a dowry? Is he getting married?! How come he never told me! And most importantly, to WHO?” Sally seemed excited until she realized that Amphitrite wasn’t smiling.

“I do not know.” Amphitrite traced useless spirals into the sand, “He never returned home from the underworld and I don’t think it’s of his own will. I cannot tell Poseidon yet, I don’t have a plan, I don’t- I don’t know what to do. There is not much I can do.” She had not rambled like this since she was a girl. It was not becoming of a queen, it was a sign of weakness-

“What do you mean?”

She looked aside to Sally, uncomfortable, “It is more culture than logic.” Sally didn’t interrupt her and she almost wished she would, “...It is technically allowable for an… interested party… to kidnap their partner for the purposes of marriage.” Her own marriage had been one fin short of such a thing, but in the end she had gone willingly.

Sally’s mouth opened once, then twice, like a fish, as she struggled to find her words. “So- hang on- but-” She stammered.

“It’s not proper,” she clarified, hoping to make it abundantly clear that she didn’t condone it, “but it is a very old tradition. And in this particular case, there is no challenge I can present to any court that would win. Triton is not a daughter we can try to intervene on behalf of. He is a son, and under marital law he has the right -and assumption- to refuse relationships on his own.”

“But that’s ridiculous!”

Amphitrite huffed, “He is not weak.”

It was a source of pride to not need protection, to be seen as fully capable and autonomous. Many brides, herself included, escaped for a period of time just to prove that they could. And Triton wasn’t weak, which is what made her so nervous.

Sally rushed to correct the misunderstanding, “Of course, I know that, I just…” She seemed to flounder for the right words.

Amphitrite spared her the trouble and continued on, “The perpetrator is likely either someone powerful enough to subdue him or someone he would hesitate to bring harm to. Possibly both.”

“And he never spoke to you about anyone like that?” Sally’s voice was gentle even as it stabbed at something deep in her heart.

“I don’t know.” She started pulling at her hair. Raking her hands through it violently. “He keeps to himself most days, and has had little need for comfort or advice. I never thought he might be involved with anyone.” She curled her knees up further and rested her forearms on them, “I figured he wasn’t interested in such things, so I never thought to ask.”

Sally put her arms around her and she leaned helplessly into the embrace. Sally murmured into her hair. “We’ll figure it out.”

For a long moment, it was just the two of them and the sound of the imaginary waves lapping on the shore.

“...What should I tell Percy?”

“Nothing yet. He’s been through enough, hopeful this will be resolved quickly and without fuss. I’d rather not make it into a bigger issue.” Amphitrite didn’t dare utter any of her own doubts as to the ‘quickness’ of any resolution.

Sally glanced at her as if to say, ‘how could it get any bigger than this?’ but instead of pointing out that very valid and obvious fact, she side-stepped into someone only slightly less stressful. “Have you told Poseidon?”

They both looked at each other askance.

“Could you do it?” Amphitrite asked —whining was beneath her after all—, throwing an arm over her eyes and leaning more heavily into her.

“He’s not my husband.” Sally matched her, only more flatly and with unflinching denial.

Still, Sally hugged her tightly. And Amphitrite didn’t end the dream even though there was nothing more to say.

Triton

Triton rolled over in his sleep, and started to wake up. He groaned, throwing out his arm as if to reach for something but only met with empty sheets.

“Hypnos,” he called, voice raspy with sleep. A new weight appeared on the bed within moments, a fresh warmth that sat just past the tips of his outstretched fingers. “I have rested as you asked, but-”

Hypnos interrupted him, uncharacteristically soothing “But you were only out for a few minutes. Go back to sleep, dear.” The words were silken and wrapped around his head with such a dizzying draw. It really had been an amazing nap. But…

“But what about Percy?” Triton struggled to open his eyes again, cognizance was becoming increasingly hard to grasp. The last time he had gotten an update, Percy was in Utah of all places.

“He’s fine!” Hypnos reassured him, combing a cool hand through his hair. Triton remembered tying it up before coming to the underworld, but it must have gotten loose somehow. It would be a pain to tie back up.

“He retrieved the bolt and everything.”

“...but you just…said…” Triton yawned, curling up before stretching out again, “it’d only been a couple min…” The god of Rest just sighed and the sound of it pulled him under, the rest of his thoughts lost to oblivion. He fell fully asleep without knowing he hadn’t even finished his sentence.

A delicate snore, like a small hiccup, escaped him and Hypnos couldn’t stop the fond smile when he heard it. Not that Triton could see, he was well and truly passed out.

Hypnos only sat still for a moment longer before summoning the vapors that rose from the river Lethe and condensing them into a heavier form. They swirled in the air like eddys of smoke, enshrouding the unconscious god of Tides in a haze of fog.

Nyx

She watched her son lean over the sleeping god and gently rearrange the blankets and pillows to make them more comfortable; as if he hadn’t crafted them himself from the wisps of dreams and stitched them together with poppysilk.

She only had to sigh and the feathers on Hypnos’ wings ruffled. “What.” He snapped, turning to glare at her as if daring her to comment.

She was a generous mother and so would not punish him for his audaciousness this time. Instead, she held up her hands in peace, “I have always harbored you, and I’m always will, but this…” she gestured towards the unconscious god swathed in the fog of unmindfulness, “it is dangerous.” The sound of the Lethe induced a certain drowsiness, and to drink its waters resulted in a complete oblivion of the mind. This fog...it was neither, and that worried her.

She was tempted to sweep it away and let the god wake fully, damn the consequences.

“He is collateral to them,” Her son hissed. “He will die trying to protect his father in this war and I can’t…”

She gave him a few moments to collect himself. He turned away without finished the sentence, his feelings were bright and clear to her and she didn’t doubt the depth of them, but he was skirting the line of what was forgivable and she’d hate to see him make such mistakes.

“Why are you so focused on him anyway? You had that Pasithea girl before, whatever happened to her?” Her question was purposefully obtuse, she knew very well what had happened with the youngest of the Graces, who had been beautiful and soft spoken. Hypnos had been so enamored with her, but Hera was a goddess of marriage not love. Pasithea had not loved Hypnos, and therein lied the issue. The marriage had been dissolved not long after it’d started.

“I cannot force someone to love me, mother.”

Nyx raised a dark brow, glancing at the unconscious god in the bed, but elected to say nothing more for the moment. She was hoping to remind him of that very fact, so as to have his evidently malfunctioning brain connect the dots.

Hypnos smoothed out the duvet before leaving the room, pulling his mother along with him to keep Triton from being disturbed from his fragile sleep, “You misunderstand the situation. It is not a question of reciprocity. It is politics that is the problem.”

She could tell there was more to it than that, but there was reasoning with her son and then there was prying into his love life. Her goal was the former, not the latter. “Of course. And kidnapping him and keeping him unconscious when you do not agree with his political choices is the epitome of a healthy relationship. Or wait, is it a marriage now?” She’d paid a hefty dowry at his behest so she very well ought to remember that this was an attempted marriage.

“I’d rather him alive to argue with me about it.” he groused.

Always the worrier, she thought. Thanatos was not half so anxious as his brother. “Gods are hard to kill,” she reminded him.

Hypnos slowed his walk, glancing to the side. It was times like this she paid more attention. He was not usually a cautious speaker, and so his hesitance sparked her attention. “I would not want to fight him or have to betray him. Lines are already being drawn, this is the lesser of two evils.”

Nyx had to wonder if he had thought of the after. Of if Triton would forgive him when he woke up.

She did not lower herself to enter into any conflicts among the younger deities, wars came and went, even amongst the gods. And although she also did not restrain her children to the same neutrality as herself, this was not even in the same realm as a good idea, let alone the “lesser evil”.

“For who?” She left her son to consider her words. He desperately needed perspective.

Of course if he didn’t ‘consider’ them in a timely manner she might have to actually fix things herself. And that would be so much work that she really wouldn’t want to do.

Now where is Eris, she might have some insight on all this. She pondered.

Staying neutral did not mean staying uninformed.

Chapter Text

Luke was sick. And Percy had been too preoccupied with his own problems to notice it.

He heard the news when he’d dragged himself back to the cabin for curfew, every camper in the Hermes cabins was whispering about it. The few that had stayed inside during the campfire singalong knew the most information.

Luke had been especially quiet and short-tempered all day and had barely made the effort to escort the cabin to dinner as he usually did. Some said he barely touched his food, others were saying he didn’t eat at all, which in Percy’s opinion was the wrong detail to focus on. When dinner had concluded, Luke had led the few that wanted to sleep early to the cabin, where he’d apparently ran straight to the bathroom to throw up.

All while Percy had been at the beach. Again. Visiting.

During the day he could be brave and try to find a new sense of normal. He could pretend he didn’t see Silena’s ghost over his shoulder every time he turned his head. But when the sun would set and the shadows got a little longer, that strength left him.

So he’d grab some dinner to go, and skulk away to the beach where he could dig his feet in the sand and listen to the gentle shifting movements of the water. It was quieter there. He was quieter there.

Something about it made his brain slow down and his breath come easier.

To the left, where the beach meets the edge of the forest and scraggly pines struggle for purchase in the mix of soil and sand, there was an obsidian column. It was short, only three feet or so tall, but glossy and smooth, reminiscent of the gates to Hades’ palace.

It was a marker for all the demigods lost throughout Camp Half-Blood’s history, either through quests, or when coming to and from the camp. And for the demigods that never made it there in the first place.

Some days he would sit next to it, others he could barely stand to look at it.

Carved into the flat, sloped top of it were the words, “Ἡμῖν ἡδέοις τόδε σῆμα ἵσταται. Κλαίετε μόνον τοὺς ἀναπαύστους, ἐκείνοι μᾶλλον ἐστερημένοι εἰσί.”.

This monument stands for us now at rest. Weep only for the restless, they are more bereft.

That night, it’d made him angry. He wanted to kick it until it keeled over sideways, until the perfect edges were chipped, and the glossy finished was scratched and dull. Stupid poetic, emo inscription. Whoever wrote it was stupid and dramatic.

He’d seen the Underworld. He had seen the thousands, millions, of ghosts that shuffled around the bleak grey and white expanse of the fields of asphodel. That was the fate for the majority of demigods, and it was far from ‘restful’.

It felt like the inscription was mocking him.

He didn’t kick it, didn’t touch it.

He sat a few feet away and focused on the sound of the water, the chirping of the crickets and cicadas, some frogs croaked, adding to the chorus.

And while he’d sat there, doing nothing but feeling angry and sad, Luke was sick enough that Lee had to carry him out of the cabin.

The whispers and gossip weren’t calming down, they were quieter with the efforts of both Travis and Conner to get the cabin to bed, but they were still a constant white noise. Percy just rolled under Luke’s empty bed while Travis and Conner tried —and failed— to get the cabin in order for the night. He kept his backpack by the wall, next to where he placed his pillow, and rifled through it until he found the little red washcloth Dionysus had given him.

It still smelled like flowers as he hugged it to his chest like a teddy bear and closed his eyes. Was it chloroform? Was it magic? He didn’t really care so long as it continued to keep the nightmares away.

…Dionysus was a liar. That or this stupid cloth was defective.

Percy dreamed of the underworld.

He swam through the Styx, the current was against him and it felt like his limbs were burning. He kicked and paddled and sliced through the water with more difficulty that he’d ever experienced. But he knew if he stopped, it would sweep him away.

Styx chuckled in his ears, “If you can’t swim here, you’ll never make it there.”

He took a deep breath and dove. Further under the surface the water wasn’t as rough, it didn’t buffet him on all sides.

Styx tsked, “That’s cheating. You have to learn to struggle, little one.”

His body rose to the surface, buoyed against his will, as if he was being lifted by her palm.

No no no I don’t want to!

“Then learn to resist.”

Someone was shaking him.

Percy opened his eyes in a squint, ready to shove the offending person away, but saw Bea’s face above him, her pale brows scrunched with concern, “Percy, are you alright? You were moving a lot in your sleep.”

He chose not to shove her and resolved instead to ignore her. It was early, he’d had a nightmare, he deserved to sleep in a bit. He rolled over before her words registered, the echoes of Styx still rung in his ears, “Huh? Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

There was a beat of silence during which Percy waited for Bea to get exasperated with his dismissiveness and leave. She didn’t and it only made him feel guilty about it. He rolled back over.

Bea still looked worried, which might have been fair. “Would you like to come with me to visit Luke? Our cabin is so big we have to take turns but I managed to get first dibs.”

Now he really felt bad. Often, the only way to get first dibs at anything in the cabin was either to be the youngest —and thus have pity points— or to fight your way through the older kids. 

“Who did you bite?” He asked flatly.

She smiled brightly then, entirely unbothered, “No one this time!” She leaned down closer until her head was just under the bunk, her eyes glinting with triumph, “Negotiations fell through. Travis was weaker than Connor,” she whispered like it was a great conspiracy.

“Did you stab them?” he asked, aghast.

“I took Travis’ mattress and floated it out into the middle of the lake with him asleep on it. He has a big fear of the Naiads. Of course, I had also bribed them to come right up to him.” She smiled and it was all teeth, “And then I just waited for him to wake up. He broke quickly”

Psychotic. Impressive, but diabolical.

“So do you want to come with me?” She prompted, referring to the original question.

“Uuuh, yeah sure, hang on, I gotta get up.” Bea gave him space to roll out from under the bunk and trailed after him as he got ready, rambling on about this and that.

Percy hadn’t spoken to her all that much since he got back. He hadn’t talked to really any of his friends and even the last time he saw Castor, he’d brushed him off because Lee had just been teleported back to camp. But he did his best to listen as she told him all about the experiments she was running. How her Tarot card deck was being sassy with her, or how her pendulum skills had gotten better. It mostly went over his head.

Bea was too energetic for how early it was. She usually wasn’t a morning person but with how well her evil plot had turned out, she must’ve still been riding the high of victory. They left the cabin together and Percy caught the pout Travis wore as he stepped out of the bathroom, toweling off his still wet hair.

“-and you know I’m really glad you decided to go, because otherwise I probably would have sold the slot back to Travis for a profit.”

So... racketeering? What is she, the mafia?

They came up to the infirmary and Percy’s steps slowed.

It wasn’t my fault. He tried to tell himself, but there was no escaping the shame that curled up at the bottom of his stomach.

Bea put a hand on his shoulder hesitantly, “We can wait.” she offered.

He shook his head, waiting would only make it worse.

The infirmary door was wooden, the staff and snake artfully burned into it, and his hands brushed the charred grooves as he pushed it open. Could the gods actually hear prayers? And what made a prayer worth answering? Interested parties needed to know.

The front of the infirmary usually served as a general clinic and consisted of a large room lined on all sides with shelves of bandages, bottles, and various medical supplies. Further back, there was a short hallway and more private, longer term rooms.

No one spared him more than a cursory glance, the various campers and satyr that comprised of the staff had better things to do than gawk at him as he walked quickly towards the one with an open door. It was a welcome change from the rest of camp, where half the campers didn't know how to treat him anymore. He was one of the newest demigods at the camp, but also now on a similar rank as Luke who was the only demigod before him and Lee to come back from a quest. 

It didn’t take a genius to know which one Luke was in. Percy would bet money it was the same one with the open door, where Chiron was quietly exiting with a sleeping Annabeth in his arms. The centaur passed him with a nod, looking a little worse for wear.

It was ironic, he’d been in the same room just a few months ago himself. 

The walls were the same burnt orange color, the cot was in the same spot, even Lee was there like before. Only this time he was sitting on the floor by the bed, engrossed in an old looking book thicker than his leg. He glanced up briefly before doing a double take.

Percy more fully blocked the exit. He hadn't known he would be there —it made belated sense— but he definitely wasn't about to let him leave.

“Lee.”

“Percy.”

His name was spoken with a rasp. Lee looked almost as bad as Luke did. He was pale, his hair was greasy, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“Bea could you-”

“On it.” She was more than happy to leave the room and close the door behind her without even hearing what Percy wanted her to do. He had actually wanted her to grab Lee a snack, they already had one counselor unconscious in a cot, they didn’t need two.

It felt like a western standoff, neither of them moving a muscle. He almost expected a tumbleweed to blow in through the open window.

Percy figured he would have to break the silence. Clearly, if he left the decision up to Lee, nothing would be said. Was he being unfair? He didn't think so. Did he do something wrong? Again, he didn't think so. He needed to know why Lee was avoiding him. And even though this was terrible timing, literally the worst time to do this, it was likely the only chance he’d get to make him talk.

He couldn't stop the small waver in his voice, “Where were you.” When I needed you, when I still need you.

Lee glanced at the sole window of the room, “What do you mean-”

That made his blood boil and the questions came out swift and harsh, “Why can’t you look at me? Why are you avoiding me? Why don’t you talk to me?”

Silena’s words came to the forefront of his mind with cruel clarity,

‘We travelled together all the way from Maine down to Camp Half-Blood and we got along really well at first but then… well my dad died, we got to camp, and I guess he found some new friends because he pretty much ignored me entirely.’

“Is this what you did with Silena?”

Lee flinched and the book slipped from his hands, landing on the ground with a dull thud. He scrambled to pick it up, “I should go.”

He was going to hit something, or set something on fire, or- “No, you really shouldn’t!” Percy hissed. This was stupid. Lee was being stupid. All the anger and hurt and grief sat in the back of his mind every day, and the one person who might understand it, wouldn’t stay in the same room as him or even look him in the eyes. “Just-” 

Lee didn't stop what he was doing, bookmarking the page and setting the tome down on the bedside table next to a pitcher of water and an empty cup. It looked like a perfectly throwable cup too. Too bad it was on the other side of the room. "Just please stop for a second."

Percy was still blocking the door, Lee moved a step closer to the window. Percy thought this was the most ridiculous and hurtful thing Lee could do. Really? climbing out the window to avoid him? He would go that far? 

A knock interrupted them and Percy wanted to scream at them to go away.

“I brought some food,” Bea announced herself before slowly opening the door. Percy grudgingly moved out of the way. “And Lee you really should not jump through that window, you’ll trip and faint and that would be pretty embarrassing for you. I'm not joking.” She was carrying a plate with two large cookies and a couple juice pouches, “I've brought only the finest the infirmary pantry has to offer.” And then without bothering to read the atmosphere, she kept the plate in one hand and with the other, gently herded Lee as far from the window as she could and subsequently closer to Percy and the door.

Lee went to protest but she just shoved a cookie in his mouth, “If you don’t eat this cookie, I swear to the gods I’ll toss you to the others in the front clinic and let them have at you.” He looked like he wanted to argue, but either way he had to chew the cookie first.

With Lee dealt with, Bea turned to Percy next, “Have your visit with Luke. We’ll come back in a bit.”

To be fair, Luke was unconscious and Lee was for once finally in front of him, it felt wrong to just let him go but...

“Don’t worry, I won’t let him run away.” she assured him.

He let them pass. He trusted her.

Then it was just him, the ugly walls, and an unconscious Luke. 

“I was really hoping he’d leave on his own,” Luke’s voice grumbled from the bed. His eyes snapped to Luke and the older demigod smiled tiredly, “Sorry for eavesdropping.” Not so unconscious then.

Percy snorted, dragging the plastic chair closer to the bed and dropping into it, “It’s fine, sorry if we woke you up.”

Luke just shrugged, neither confirming nor denying that they had woken him, “You should be kinder to him though, it’s hard for him.”

“It’s hard for me too.”

Luke’s eyes bored into him with an edge of disapproval, “He came to camp with her, Percy.”

“I know.” She told him that. He knew that already. It did nothing to make him feel charitable in any way.

“No, you don’t. It’s extremely rare for more than one demigod to arrive at a time, because the monsters can smell you that much stronger. They can track you for longer, with more accuracy.” Percy visibly did not understand. Luke sighed, “If either of them had come alone, Silena’s dad probably would have made it out alive.”

“But they also might have died if they traveled on their own,” he pointed out. Maine was a long ways from Long Island. 

“And we’ll never know. There’s no point getting caught on the what-ifs." Finally Luke broke away from looking at him and listed his head to the side to see out the window. "But Lee is always thinking about them. And while it makes him a great medic, it also makes him just a little bit of a terrible person.”

Percy was at odds between disparaging Lee or defending him. He wasn’t a terrible person he was just…

Luke got a little quieter, “He’s alone right now.”

“He has me.”

”No, you have him. It is very different.”

That was stupid. And it didn’t make any sense at all. And it wasn’t Luke’s business anyway.

Luke coughed dryly and Percy let it lie, jumping to get him a glass of water from the pitcher on the nearby table, “You know you’re also a terrible person,” Percy groused. “You’re sick and didn’t tell anyone and now look at you.”

Luke laughed, hacked a cough, and laughed some more, “You sound like Annabeth.”

“Well maybe that’s because we’re right.”

“Sure, sure.”

Chapter Text

The Fates were mean old ladies and Percy kind of wanted to sic the Graeae Sisters on them and see who would win in an all-out fist fight. At least the Taxi-Grannies thought he was cute, they might step into the octagon if he asked real nice and gave them Triton’s diary as a bribe.

Why was he imagining his deep sea grandmas beating up the universe’s best knitters? Because right when he had gotten settled enough in his own head to leave Luke’s bedside, right when he was stepping out the infirmary door to confront his dumb older brother (who was going to be demoted back to maybe-brother if he tried to escape again) there was a huge commotion that sidelined everything.

“Where is he!?”

That was Castor’s voice. Percy thought he heard Lee trying to calm someone down but everything was drowned out by incoherent yelling and scuffling.

The force with which he smacked open the infirmary door was more than he’d initially intended.

With a shriek of rusty hinges, it hit against the outside wall like a gavel, loud enough to cut off the screaming match instantly. Five pairs of eyes whipped to look at him.

This. Was. An. Infirmary. Not a place to have screaming matches!

Lee and Bea were off to one side while Pollux and Castor were both frozen on the ground mid-wrestle against someone Percy had never seen before. His hair was dark and curly, he was much older than them, probably around mid-twenties to thirty years old with a long chiton and cloak on. His arms had leather braces, and he wore sandals. Truly he looked the stereotype of an ancient Greek hero.

Except he was being beat up on the ground by two thirteen year olds.

Percy took a small, steadying breath. Anger was not going to help him right now. “...What’s going on?”

Castor had the guy in a tight headlock, not that it even seemed to phase them man, “Dionysus is missing and this random dude showed up all suspicious which makes it clear he kidnapped our father!” He snapped.

For a second, panic seized his lungs. Dionysus was a god. The implications of him being kidnapped were not thoughts Percy particularly wanted to entertain. The next second consisted of him putting that panic in a chokehold until it died. “Did anyone ask him who he is?” Percy prompted, at worse he was a malicious intruder who had wormed his way past the Camp barrier. At best, he was simply a mystery man. 

Chiron would know what to do with him...

Bea just glanced at the man before murmuring quietly, “His name is Patroclus. He’s not random.” Lee flinched, turning to her with a startled look.

Likewise, Percy blinked at her, That's...totally not creepy at all. 

The strange mood in the air amounted to something like all of them (sans Castor who was desperately and unsuccessfully trying to make the guy's lights go out) putting their metaphorical hands on their hips and going 'well I'll be'. 

It was a hell of a claim. 

Percy hadn't really read the whole Illiad, but he knew the gist of it. His mother wouldn't let him get away without the basics, especially considering she made his middle name Achilles. Not to mention Triton, who could be considered thoroughly 'bookish' on a good day and held a love of lecturing.

Patroclus was more than just Achilles' friend, brother-in-arms, or even possibly lover. He was a talented tactician, swordsman, and diplomat. He was also very dead, which threw plenty of bitter questions into the air. 

Because if this man was really Patroclus, then he was a ghost brought back to life, and if that was true, then why him and not Her?

‘Patroclus’ sighed, standing and brushing off Castor and Pollux like they were nothing more than clingy spiderwebs. The two tumbled off the man and onto the ground with twin grunts. “Children,” he crossed his arms, looking down at them from his frankly unfair height, “t'was great fun, but I seeketh my old teacher Chiron. Direct me to him forthwith.”

...

The strange words stood in the air until Patroclus’ eyebrows started to scrunch together in annoyance. But really who could blame them? Bea was trying not to laugh, Pollux was coughing to cover up his own, Lee looked pained, and Castor was more confused than angry at this point.

Percy just took it in stride. Honestly, it took a while for Triton to get with the times too, and it lent more evidence to his actually being the Patroclus. “This way.” He gestured with his arm for the man to step ahead of him and off the two strolled, completely unbothered, leaving the rest of the circus behind. 'Patroclus' visibly shook off the odd reactions of the others, looking grateful that at least one of the children seemed to have his wits about him.

Patroclus made a short hum sound as he took in some of the scenery around Camp, "Is this your outpost then?"

"Huh? No, no this is it. This is Camp Half-Blood. Do you not know where you are?" 

They both stopped walking, turning to each other with matching faces of incredulity. 

"Surely you jest." Patroclus frowned like Percy was playing a stupid prank on him. Jokes on him then. 

"Nope" he popped the 'p' because he could, "This is it."

"Ah. I see. It is.. nice."

For some, totally random reason, Percy doubted his genuinity; the guy looked devastated. He let the silence hang, let Patroclus get it together enough to not look so gutted before he sprung the question he'd been wanting to ask the whole time, "So...why are you here?"

The resumed walking, Percy still had to deliver the man to Chiron for vetting and interrogation.

"I was tasked by Lord Hades with serving as a substitute mentor in the absence of Lord Dionysus."

"So you know why he's gone?"

"I do. I am not allowed to speak of it."

This time Percy was the one to hum noncommittally.

They walked to Big House in rare silence. The blue siding and wrap around porch came into view as they hiked up the hill. Percy could see more of the camp from that height, demigods in the strawberry fields, in canoes on the lake, or climbing the lava wall. A surge of protectiveness welled up.

Their resident god was gone and they got a supposed Greek Hero of Myth™ in his stead. Still a downgrade in Percy's opinion, but worse, also a potential vulnerability. As much as Dionysus wasn't the snuggliest, there simply is no substitute for certified godly might.

Before they could even get within thirty feet of the porch, Chiron cantered out the front door, took an elegant leap over the porch stairs and approached them swiftly.

"Patroclus!"

Well that confirmed it. Cool. Super awesome. That didn't make him feel anything negative. Wasn't the whole point of Hades' job to stop people from coming back to life willy nilly? The two men hugged briefly before turning around to go back into the Big House, totally ignoring Percy. Well, not entirely, Chiron did nod to him in thanks for escorting Patroclus to the house, but evidently, his focus was not on clarifying the situation to Percy.

"I'll just go back now like a good little demigod." He muttered with a sigh, "I deserve a nap." And now he was starting to sound like Luke.

Percy rolled to the other side of the bunk, cocooning himself in the bedspread in the process. It was Luke’s bunk but he wasn’t using it right now anyway.

Did he want to get up? It was probably dinner time if he was judging the sunlight that filtered through the cabin windows correctly…

Or he could go back to sleep.

Decisions, decisions. The door to the Hermes cabin slammed open and Percy dove off the bed, blanket and all, grabbing the nearest weapon and settling in a defensible stance... more a defensive hunker-down, considering the blanket would not unroll itself from around his body. Decision made for me, I guess.

No one else was in the cabin. It was just him and whoever was coming in to attack him. He gripped the knife, eyes on the door.

There was a yelp as the would-be attacker tried to come inside.

He only caught sight of the tip of a shoe before the door snapped closed all on its own and the scent of burnt rubber wafted faintly in.

“Percy! Come out here!”

“Annabeth?” He called back grumpily, twisting carefully around to get out of the blanket without falling over. “Why don’t you just come in?” She never had an issue before.

“… I got shocked.” The admission was almost too quiet to hear.

He wasn’t going to laugh. He wasn’t going to laugh. He put the dagger back under Luke’s pillow, stretching with a yawn before leisurely making his way to the door, “Yes?” He leaned out, a hand on the edge of the door just in case she was mad at him specifically, so he could quickly dart back inside to safety.

“Are you coming to lunch? We get to see the guest.” The way she said ‘guest’ set off metaphorical sparkles in her eyes and put a crazed grin on her face. So she wasn't mad, this was just...excitement?

“Oh, sure, who?”

She blinked at him. Once. Twice. “Patroclus? I thought you met him earlier, Castor said you were there?”

And with only those few words, his dazed sleepiness was gone. How did he forget that?! Was he going senile?!?

“Right. Yeah. Definitely met him.” He coughed to skip over the part where he totally forgot all about their new visitor. “Yeah I’ll come to lunch, thanks for coming to get me.”

Her face softened into a small frown and she looked to the side rather than directly at him, “No problem.” The walk was short and awkward, the both of them a little too much in their own heads to make much conversation.

The dining pavilion was fuller than usual, more nymphs and satyr coming out of the woods to pretend to help with dinner just so they could gawk at the newcomer. A lot of campers weren’t even eating, their spoons and forks missing their mouths as they stared at Patroclus who was in deep conversation with a tired looking Chiron and Percy’s mom. 

It had been strange at first, even after she'd said she would stay at Camp with him, to actually see her around. He had almost gotten used to the terrible feeling of her being gone and impossibly out of reach. She was staying in the Big House, in one of the spare rooms. He'd helped move some of the storage boxes and air out the room; it was a comical reenactment of when he was moving into Yancy.

Now, his mother sat at the head table, next to Patroclus and Chiron, the two men were clearly having a hushed and heated debate while his mother listened thoughtfully, interjecting every so often. Every single demigod was trying to listen in on it without getting caught, him included. His mom looked so serious about whatever it was, it sent alarms ringing in his head.

Percy pulled his attention away and focused on piling food on his plate and taking the correct portion to the brazier. He scraped off some lamb, potatoes, and a whole honeycake into the flames. It was indeed a hefty sacrifice; each camper was only allowed one honeycake.

“Apollo.” He murmured, “Fix your son and fix Luke please. I’m suffering out here.”

Chapter Text

Apollo was not going to get a honeycake out of him ever again. This was ridiculous.

In the dream, because what else could it be, the god was bent over a large wooden table piled high with disorganized heaps of leaves, flowers, and roots. Presumably, these had medicinal properties.

At the foot of the table, an enormous silver bow leaned; an exact replica of Lee’s own bow, Daybreak.

The room itself had boring white walls that were covered with dark wood shelves, and the only things on them were an insane amount of jars and bowls. Glass jars, clay jars, marble bowls, wooden bowls. Not a shred of personality in sight, excepting for the strange scent combo of grass, coffee, and deep-fried chicken.

Apollo looked older than Percy thought he would be. Based on the myths, he was supposed to look like a young guy, with blonde hair and a lyre or a bow. Instead, in front of him was a middle aged man, dressed in a white lab coat over baggy grey sweatpants and a faded Bass Pro TM t-shirt. There were silver streaks in his hair and fine lines on his scowling face while he ground away (with extreme prejudice) at a green-brownish paste inside a dark stone mortar. Unintelligible words rumbled out from under his breath in a steady stream of incoherent curmudgeonliness.

He was pretty sure it was Apollo, what with the bow, the plants, and the general vibe.

Percy scuffed his shoe on the marble floor, feeling tempted to raise his hand like in school, very much not wanting to offend a god who is clearly having a bad day.

The god didn’t even look up, “Yes, tis I, Apollo, lord of light and healing and all that other fun stuff. Fall on your knees and behold my glory,” he intoned flatly.

So he was right. Now I know where all of Cabin 7 gets their bedside manners.

Straight to the point then, “Wanna tell me why I’m here?”

The god looked at him. It was just a slight turn of his head, just enough for him to look at Percy from the corner of his eye. But that flash of bright silver reminded him other gods were not like Triton; they will not be amused or entertained by his sass.

“Oh. It’s you.” Apollo squinted.

What’s that supposed to mean?

“Should I go?” Nevermind the fact that he had no idea how he got there or how to leave.

Apollo waved a hand, turning back to his task, plucking a few leaves from a random stalk on the table and adding it to the bowl, “No, no, this is fine. I don’t have the time or energy to be picky at the moment.”

Percy wanted to ask if he’d heard his prayer, if he was making something to help Luke, or would be imparting wisdom to his eldest son posthaste. Rather cynically, Percy doubted that was case.

“Honestly, I was just looking for any random kid in the Hermes Cabin. It’s the only cabin that’s open to messages from the other gods you know. I just need you to pass along the message.” Apollo grabbed a small spatula and started to scrape the paste from the mortar into a palm-sized circular tin, “Tell Chiron I have a quest that needs done. And before anyone asks: no it is not optional, no he can’t assign a satyr to do it, and the best I can give him is about a month and a half to do whatever training or prepping he wants to do.” He smacked a lid on the tin with frankly excessive force before flinging it like a discus at the wall.

Percy flinched, expecting it to hit the wall and for paste to go flying everywhere, but it blinked out of existence like it was never there and his shoulders relaxed a bit.

“That’s it? I mean sure but since I’m here I was wondering-” The self-preservation instincts started kicking in, urging him to just nod his head and be on his way. Except it was already too late, he’d already opened his big fat mouth, might as well keep going. “Luke’s really sick right now. No one knows what to do.”

“Sorry kid, can’t help you right now. I’m sure he’s on the waitlist. I’ll get to it when I can.”

“But-”

He was leveled with a much meaner look this time for his impertinence, Apollo’s voice coming out with a slight hiss to it, “You want to help Luke? Tell Chiron I have a quest that needs doing. Pronto.”

The room dissolved into darkness and Percy opened his eyes to the familiar lumpy silhouettes and soft snores of the his cabinmates. The cabin was dark, blackout curtains drawn over the windows kept the moonlight out while some campers’ string lights or glow in the dark sticky stars illuminated things just enough to see by. Did it defeat the purpose of the blackout curtains? Yes. Was it a hotly debated topic amongst them? Only on Tuesdays.

Percy rolled out from under the bunk, holding onto the remnants of the dream with equal parts bitterness and weary acceptance. The gods were not like his family. Their children were clearly not their first priority. He grabbed his zip up hoodie and walked out the door. Sue him, he’s tired and about to go jogging around in the middle of the night. He would not be running. Apollo didn’t specify he had to run. The most effort he was willing to give was alight jog and even that was only because the harpies would catch him if he walked. They don’t see very well but they have sharp ears —or so Travis told him— so stick to the shadows and move briskly.

Simply put, don’t linger but also don’t go running around with thunder feet. Keep it to a natural scurry. This way, you sound like a squirrel or deer or some other normal forest animal and you look like a medium size blob. The harpies are often too lazy to investigate.

According to Connor, the Hermes cabin was so good at pranks because they had mastered the art of blending in. This was duly noted, and now was coming in handy.

Once he passed Cabins 1 and 2, the Big House was just a short trek up the hill, and he could see that some of the lights were still on.

No one stopped him on the way, nor when he bounded up the three short steps to the porch. So he didn’t bother with knocking and strolled right in.

Wherein lied his mistake. His journey abruptly ended before he even reached the common room, the source of the light. Between one moment and the next, he was held against the wall with a knife to his neck.

Patroclus blinked in shock, taking the blade away just as quickly. “Ah my apologies.” Someone had clearly lent him some pajamas, a tie-dyed sweatshirt and some red plaid flannel pants.

“Oh my god, Percy!” His mom bodily shoved Patroclus away, and Percy was only a little surprised that the man stumbled with the force of it. She checked him over, trying to see if he got nicked anywhere, “What are you doing here at this hour?” She was infinitely more fashionable than the rainbow and plaid atrocity that was Patroclus. Her hair was loosely braided and she wore an overly large camp t-shirt with dark blue sweatpants. She looked tired, like she'd been up all night.

I could say the same thing. Maybe you should have the curfew, not me.

Chiron stepped slowly out from inside the room, looking more exhausted than Percy had ever witnessed. Even worse than when he taught at Yancy.

The adults herded him into the kitchen before grilling him further. His mom’s face stayed pinched, like she could sense a disturbance in the force, as she sat him down at the tiny kitchen table. She busied herself with putting a pot of water on the stove to boil, “Tell me what’s up?”

They always started out the serious conversations like this, sitting down somewhere with a hot mug of something and a ‘what’s up?’. The familiarity of it never ceased to make him spill his guts.

“Apollo told me he has a quest.” He blurted out.

She had been facing away from him, puttering around with mugs and teabags or whatever she felt like making, when his words registered. And she stayed facing away, heaving a sigh while she gently smacked her head against the overhead cabinet. There was silence.

He felt incredibly judged.

It wasn’t his fault! He’s just the messenger!

Patroclus gently nudged his mother away from the stove, silently taking over she could sit with Percy.

Which, Percy narrowed his eyes at the man, was slightly suspect. He shouldn’t have figured out how to use a stove yet, he just got to camp that day! No way he was that adaptable!

Banished from the stove, his mother moved from resting her head against a cabinet to resting it in her arms at the table, face down. “Why is it always my son?” Her voice was muffled into the vinyl top.

“Gee mom, thanks for your unwavering support.”

“Children.” Chiron chided, trying to get them back to the topic at hand, but only managing to draw three sets of glares. “Percy, the quest? Tell me what Lord Apollo said.”

Percy listed it off with his fingers, “Quest, not optional, no satyrs, month and a half prep time.”

Patroclus put a steaming cup of coffee in front of his mom’s arms, and a cup of tea right next to it for him, “It is strange that Apollo is the one giving the quest. He doesn’t normally involve himself in such things. Percy, can you describe your dream more?”

His mom held up her hand, not even lifting her head yet, “Translate?”

…She didn’t speak ancient Greek.

It hadn’t occurred to him before that this would be an issue and he felt a little stupid for not realizing earlier. Patroclus spoke Greek —and as far as Percy knew, only Greek— and he’d actually not witnessed them speak directly to each other before. To him it sounded like English. If he concentrated, he could hear the difference but for his mother, she would not understand it until someone repeated it to her in English.

“He asked Percy to describe the dream.” Chiron summarized from his spot by the threshold, turning to Percy in a clear signal for him to give the aforementioned description.

“We were in a small room. There were a lot of plants on this big worktable table and Apollo was working on making some kind of paste. It looked really disorganized. He was frustrated with something I think. I don’t know. He looked a little old too.”

Chiron stepped more fully into the kitchen, “He looked old? How old would you say, if you had to guess?”

“Maybe forty?”

Patroclus, to his credit, only looked slightly lost, “Lord Apollo old? Very old or no?” It was broken and heavily accented English, but for only having been at Camp for less than 24 hours, it was nothing short of genius.

“Eh.” Percy waves his hand back a forth to signify ‘middle-aged’. This was evidently an important detail. “Forty-ish.” Now that he was aware of it, the switch to ancient Greek was subtle but there. It would probably take some time to be properly aware of it, but no way was he leaving his mom linguistically high and dry.

“You say ‘a month and a half’. This is ‘one month plus half a month’, yes?”

“Yes.”

There was more specifying and detailing they went through before his mother lifted her head to speak, “He didn’t say you had to go though, right?”

“Nope, he just said he needed a Hermes Cabin kid to be messenger. And I also don’t want to go anyway.”

Chiron didn’t say a word, which had both Patroclus and Percy’s mother scowling at him.

“He just got back from one!”

“You cannot be thinking of sending this one out!”

Chiron waited for silence before speaking, “We have roughly a month to chose who will go. Until then, we need to fortify Camp and above all, we must consult to oracle.”

Wait, fortify Camp for what?

“OOOK, time for bed. Message delivered.” Percy’s mom ushered him up and out of his seat, the tea left untouched on the table.

He wanted to stay; half to eavesdrop a bit and half to curl up next to his mom on the cloud couch with his warm tea, “If I go back I’ll get eaten by the harpies.” Percy leveraged, eyes wide and shining with fake fear.

“Lying to your mother now? For shame. You got here just fine. You just want to eavesdrop.” Patroclus was a potential snitch. Duly noted.

His mom huffed a short sigh, “Fine. Then sleep on the couch tonight. But you will sleep. No funny business. No eavesdropping.”

How did they manage to be on the same brainwave like that? It was uncanny and he didn’t like it. Percy took his tea with him to the other room, leaving the adults behind and collapsing (carefully) onto the couch.

At least I don't have to go on the quest. My job is done here.

Chapter Text

Percy woke to raised voices and the smell of coffee.

The angry tone lent to the indistinguishable words jolted him awake and his first thought upon falling off the couch was to find his mom, pray to his mother, and eliminate the threat. In that order.

It was only when he was halfway out of the living room, sword in hand, that he realized there probably wasn’t any danger. There was still arguing coming form the kitchen just a few feet away, but this was Camp, where he was safe. He capped Riptide, and put it back in his pocket. There was no need for theatrics at 6am.

The few steps it took to round the corner nearly soured his already precarious mood.

It was almost like no one had even moved from their spots last night.

Patroclus was next tot he kitchen counter, pouring coffee from the pot into a large mug, before turning to lean against the countertop. Percy’s mom was already sitting at the small table, holding her own between her hands like a stress ball. All the while Chiron was across the room staring them both down.

Percy, in his shark patterned pjs and bedhead, felt almost out of place.

He swept in like it didn’t bother him, “So-” he chirped, feeling

“Percy.” His mom warned him with that special tone of hers, drawing out his name a few more seconds than usual to indicate she wasn’t in the mood for games.

He put his hands up, “I didn’t even say anything yet!” he defended his innocence.

Patroclus stared at him for an uncomfortable second, measuring, “What were you about to ask?”

The support from an unexpected corner threw everyone for a loop, “Oh. Well, uh,” Percy glanced back at his mom who was Not Happy™, “...Nothing!” He wanted to live, not suffer, thank you.

Patroclus snorted, the strange mood lifted, and the older man simply shooed him away, “Then go, we are discussing things you have no business hearing.”

For a moment, he was more relieved than insulted. But his mom must have sensed the indignation threatening to rise and deftly put a stop to it. “Go check on your Cabin, they’re probably looking for you.”

Percy relented and left to change and go back to the Hermes Cabin as asked.

Of course his mom was right, the cabin looked like a tornado hit when he opened the door. Someone’s pillow came flying out of nowhere to hit him squarely in the face. No one even bothered to apologize as they were all searching high and low for something.

He tapped the nearest kid on the shoulder, a younger camper named Cecil, “What are we all looking for?”

Cecil, to his credit, doesn’t even hesitate, “Gods Percy were you not paying attention? You’re missing and we’re-” He stops mid sentence, turning his head to make full blown eye contact. “Percy!” He shout halts everyone else in their tracks, “We were looking for you! You weren’t here this morning and no one knew where you were! We were about to send out search parties.”

With the crisis averted, missing person now found, the majority of the cabin grumbled as they started cleaning up the mess they’d made. Children climbed down from the rafters and rolled out from underneath bunk beds.

Travis ran through the door to the cabin, nearly bowling over Percy who hadn’t made it very far inside in the first place, “Hey watch it,” he didn’t even look down to see which kid he’d almost careened into, “Guys I still can’t find him and I ran around the whole forest twice!” He was breathing hard and looked like he’d hit every branch at a dead sprint. A twig was caught in his hair and dirt smudged his cheek.

Connor came not a moment later, squeezing past his brother, “He’s not at the beach or the lake either.” He was soaked, dripping water on the floorboards. His lack of talent for boats and water was so well known that Percy could picture exactly what made him such a mess. He probably tried to ask the naiads if they’d seen him and got pulled into the water by them.

The whole cabin just pointed to Percy without a word, as if to say, he’s right there you idiots.

Percy’s face was getting warm.

Right when the embarrassment and awkward silence started to stretch on too long, Travis gave a dramatic cry, “My son!” and gathered him in his arms, hugging him tightly enough to hurt while digging his knuckled into his head as punishment, “You’re alive! Thank the heavens! The gods have returned you to me!” he crowed.

Connor just flicked some lingering lake water at him, for once he was more serious than Travis, “Please don’t disappear like that, the harpies have actually hurt Campers before.”

Percy’s “sorry” was muffled by Travis’ theatrics.

Once he was released, he was mercilessly interrogated. Travis and Connor, being interim cabin counselors and thus needing to take the matter at least a little seriously, wanted to know precisely why on earth he left. So he told them. And maybe he wasn’t supposed to tell them, but they had run all around Camp trying to find him out of genuine worry so he felt that they deserved a real explanation.

“Apollo is going to be giving us a Quest.”

Everyone fell silent.

“Percy, were you given another prophecy?” Travis asked gravely. And there might have been some anger lingering underneath his tone, although Percy had a hard time parsing it out.

“No, but he told me in a dream that I had to go tell Chiron so I got up and went to tell him. That’s why I wasn’t here in the morning, I slept over in the Big House so the harpies wouldn’t get me on the way back.”

Which, now that he knew they had actually hurt campers before, felt like a much more legit reason than it had when he’d cited the excuse the first time.

Travis exhaled harshly, “Thank the gods.” he gave a much gentler ruffle to Percy’s hair, “Leave some glory for the rest of us, yeah?”

A sharp whistle pierced through the air and Connor took his fingers down from his mouth to kick the cabin back in gear, “Alright guys! Let’s get this back to semi-clean and get to breakfast! I want bacon!”

A low cheer went up for the aforementioned bacon.

Breakfast was a fairly normal affair right up until Percy realized that even though the quest hadn’t been formally addressed the him, there was a high possibility he’d be going anyway.

Sitting with the rest of the Hermes Cabin, he speared his fork dolefully at his waffles and eggs. Out of everyone, he would probably have to go on this quest. He was one of the most experienced campers now, and one of the few demigods they could spare. Luke was sick and Lee needed to stay and help him. That left very few people to pick from.

Maybe En, who had the blessing of Ares (the thought of which sat like lead in his stomach), would be picked to go. One of the Stolls could go, since they’d already proven their skills in couch-theft. Beyond them, not many people stood out.

Having gone on his own Quest, now he understood better why they had been so reluctant to let him go. As a fresh Camper, he’d had zero skills, zero experience. Now, after everything, he had some. But he was smart enough to know that he would need to improve them significantly. He had a month and a half. If he didn’t want anyone else to end up dead, he had to train hard, do better, be better. Because he would probably have to go on this one too.

Across the pavilion, Castor and Pollux glowered at Patroclus from the Dionysus table, shoveling food violently into their mouths. Pollux especially looked like he wanted to commit homicide. To Percy’s left, the Athena cabin were barely eating, more content to stare and gossip theorize.

A small commotion from the Aphrodite cabin drew his attention as one camper stood to the soft encouragement of her siblings. It was a younger girl named Drew. Percy wasn’t as familiar with her personally but he at least knew her name.

She gave him a small smile and wave as she approached the head table with Chiron, Patroclus, and his mother.

“Oh, I knew they’d pick her. She’s a little new, came to camp a couple years ago, but plenty capable.” Bea commented with her mouth full of hashbrown.

“Pick her for what?” Percy’s heart picked up speed, there was no way it was for the quest, right? And even then, they shouldn’t let another…

“For cabin counselor. She’s presenting herself to Chiron for formal recognition.”

Percy huffed, feeling his heart rate slow back own while he took a sip of blue orange juice. Bea had a talent for driving his blood pressure up.

Drew stood straight-backed, her hands clasped behind her at the forearms, there was a pair of daggers at her sides and pearls dotted in her braid. From behind, the resemblance was undeniable. Coming from an Aphrodite camper, the look was no doubt intentional and it certainly succeeded in making a statement.

It felt like the air was sucked out of the pavilion. Chiron, already standing in his natural form, stomped a hoof. The sharp sound rippled harshly through the area, “Drew Tanaka comes to me with the support of her brothers and sisters to take up a leader’s mantle. Does anyone object?”

The only sound was the rustle of the wind in the leaves. Another hoof beat, like a gavel, seemed to signal the end of it but no one got up to congratulate Drew. There would never have been a good time to do it, and there would never have been a celebration for it. Percy could tell she expected the silence and as she made her way back to her table, to sit at the head of it now, he couldn’t muster up a smile for her but he did nod.

The Aphrodite Cabin had been nothing but kind to him. Even with the discovery of his true parentage, they still treated him with familiarity. The feeling of undeservedness rose like goosebumps. He was the one keeping them at arms length, he knew that, and he would fix it just as soon as he could bring himself to approach the cabin door.

Another hoof beat re-captured everyone’s attention, “While I have you attentions, I would like to announce that Patroclus will be leading a few mandatory classes this summer. Beginner and Master Swordsmanship as well as Tactics will be taught by him starting today.”

Excited murmuring broke out amongst the campers. Many sounded eager to test themselves against a certified Greek Hero, while a few groaned, probably hoping to skip those classes since Luke was bedridden.

“That means we have sword practice with him after breakfast,” Bea commented lightly, glancing to Percy to try and gauge his reaction.

“Great.” He responded dryly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Patroclus, it was just another bitter thing that sat in his stomach. It felt like a betrayal to accept instruction from anyone other than Luke.

Of all the Hermes campers, Percy was the last one finished eating, already on the receiving end of some impatient glares from his cabin-mates. Having already tested their patience once that morning, he finished up quickly.

The trek to their class was shorter than he wanted it to be, and he dragged his feet enough that small plumes of dust started to collect around his shoes when they scuffed a particularly dry patch of earth.

The training area was a flat patch of earth, roughly the size of a baseball pitch. Wooden dummies lined on side of it while a rack of weapons sat opposite them. Most of the blades were swords but there were a smattering of various daggers, spears, and more exotic weapons, some of which Percy didn’t even know the names for.

Patroclus was already there to meet them, momentarily distracted by weighing one of the practice swords in his hand. He spun it once, gave it a small swish, and frowned.

Percy could see the mental shrug that went through his mind as he saw their approach and refocused his attention on the class.

Once they were all gathered in front of him, in two rows because there were simply too many of them, he dove right into lecture-mode. “Your first and best bet is always something pointy straight to the jugular.”

Simple and effective, with those words he grabbed everyone’s attention.

Bea raised her hand before he could explain even a single word more, “What about poison?” she blurted out.

To his credit, he wasn’t even phased, smoothly he responded curtly, “Easily mishandled, too situational, and prone to failure.” Then, as if they were toddlers, he lifted his practice sword in one hand and gestured to it with the other. “Pointy,” he emphasized, setting the blade against his neck as if they needed a demonstration, "Jugular."

“Now please spread out and watch as I demonstrate proper form.”

Chapter Text

Percy didn’t know what is was about the older hero that irritated him but sometimes, he would just get the inexplicable urge to try and trip him. Or lightly stab. It was just that sometimes he really wished casual and innocuous violence against him. Like now, when the class was gathered in a circle after doing some paired warm-ups, to watch a spar between their new instructor and some poor unlucky camper.

Percy was sure he would be picked. That Patroclus would point him out from the crowd made up of twenty to thirty kids and beckon him to enter the ring. He was sure of it. And he was kind of hoping for the opportunity to swing a sword at him.

But Patroclus’ eyes swept right over him, without hesitation and he pointed to Travis, “You’re the counselor, yes?”

“Interim.” Travis responded, relaxing his posture indolently and quirking an eyebrow almost as if to say, what’s it to you?

Connor is suspiciously absent, Percy noted, looking around for the other ‘interim counselor’ but not finding hide nor hair of him.

“Come spar, then.” Patroclus waved him over.

“I’m not a beginner.” Travis warned, because this was supposed to be the 'Beginner' class, and it was only fair to make sure the instructor knew not to go so easy on him.

Patroclus chuckled, not unkindly, but like it genuinely amused him, “That’s fine, but you should have just let me underestimate you.”

Travis frowned lightly but stepped into the center space anyway. His weapon of choice was a Kopis, a lightly curved sword made for slashing instead of the more common leaf-shaped Xiphos style like Riptide.

The sword didn’t look like a regular training sword, and Percy had to wonder if Travis had stolen it from somewhere. It just didn’t look like anything Camp usually gave out. Either he’d commissioned it from the Hephaestus Cabin or he’d stolen it. And it probably took a lot less effort to just steal it than to pay a blacksmith in camp currency (which involved favors, blackmail, and illicit Redbull cans).

Point was, it was a really nice sword.

Patroclus had one of the training swords, and Percy remembered back to when Luke had first given him a tour of Camp, explaining how the training swords are usually the Hephaestus Cabin’s ill-balanced rejects.

Despite the fact that Patroclus was a hero from the literally history books, an ancient Greek soldier who served by the side of Achilles —arguably one of the most famous demigods— and clearly very experienced, Percy thought that Travis might have a leg up just on the fact that he clearly had the better blade.

Patroclus raised his sword and that was all the prompting Travis needed. He shot toward their instructor with speed, raising plumes of dust in his wake. Percy’s eyes widened, he was fast.

Next to him, Bea made an approving hum, nudging Percy with her shoulder, “What, never seen a Hermes kid run before?” She teased, cabin pride oozing from her in smug waves.

And it wasn’t that he’d never seen them run, but this made every other race seem like a pleasant jog.

“We don’t split the cabin on our runs, Perce. We keep pace. There’s no point in sprinting ahead when we’re supposed to be running together.”

Because Percy sometimes forgot that the Hermes Cabin wasn’t just made up of Hermes kids. He certainly wasn’t a Hermes kid, and until now he’d never wondered how he’d kept pace with the group (albeit in the back) on their runs.

The match in front of them was a battle between speed and technique, with Patroclus only defending, matching Travis slice for slice as the younger almost danced around him. While Travis was a whirl of movement, Patroclus made startling few moves himself. Only one foot swiveling to move him back or to the side as he kept a meticulous and sturdy position.

In a single moment, the rhythm that had built up was shattered as Travis’ Kopis went skidding to the ground.

To his credit, Travis immediately leapt out of Patroclus’ range and stood waiting for the match to be called. But Patroclus just stood there, sword lowered and grip relaxed, “Well?” he prompted, “Is that it? You cannot fight without a weapon?”

Travis shrugged, “So what if it is? Can you?”

And then Connor slid into the ring like a baseball player, snatching Patroclus’ sword right out of his hand on his way past.

He tumbled towards the end and sprung up absolutely covered in dust. The two gave each other a low-five and Connor slipped a knife to Travis while he spun Patroclus’ own blade in his hand tauntingly, “Hi, my name’s Connor. I’m the other interim counselor.” He chirped, “Mind if I cut in?”

Patroclus laughed, delighted, but raised his hands in defeat, “I concede.”

Connor pouted, disappointed, while Travis just huffed.

“I wanted to discuss alternative forms of fighting and I couldn’t have put a better demonstration than that.” The excitement of the spar settled into a more productive energy as Patroclus explained the spirit of Greek swordsmanship and battle, “'No holds barred’ I believe is the phrase.”

After that class, they met up with the Demeter cabin. Typically they would have had gardening time on Friday, but Travis and Connor had agreed to swap days with the Ares cabin because the Demeter counselor, Kareef, asked them to. There was a field that needed clearing for planting and they needed as many helping hands as possible. Hence, the Hermes Cabin.

Honestly, at first glance, the Demeter kids freaked him out, but only because at least two of the six had absolutely ginormous scythes thrown over their shoulders. The blades were only a couple inches wide, but the length was a least three to four feet, gently curved.

The gardening tools he was used to usually only consisted of small trowels and rakes, not these harbingers of grassy doom.

Blades never bothered him but these were not swords or knives, these were rather large gardening tools and they looked like they could do some real damage to your ankles. Percy rather liked his ankles attached to him, thank you.

The Demeter kids were dressed in overalls, brightly colored gardening gloves, and wide-brimmed hats. They all generally looked friendly and gentle; except for the two with the unnecessarily huge scythes, those two looked like cheerful little gardeners in service to the grim reaper.

Their counselor, was one of the scythe bearers. He was tall and willowy, dressed in a camp t-shirt so sun-faded it looked peach instead of orange and sporting sturdy, grass-stained jeans. Next to him was a slightly shorter girl, similarly dressed, who held the second scythe. She stood just a step behind like some kind of lieutenant. Percy thought her name was Kelly or Katie or something along those lines.

The counselor’s floppy sunhat hid half his face from view but his voice was clear, “So our task today is to clear out the far field, plot number four. Thank you Hermes cabin for helping us out. Let’s go.” He was very to the point.

The Hermes campers were all given shovels and some pickaxes and told to follow the six Demeter kids to the plot.

It was a longer walk than Percy thought it would be, passed the strawberry fields and closer to the woods. The plot was sectioned off by a low fence made of woven branches, some of which sported patches of deep green leaves.

The plot was covered in long grass and the two with the scythes began mowing it down with large sweeps of their blades. Behind them, the rest of the campers set to tilling the ground. The August sun was bright and beaming down on them while they worked to turn over the soil and dig up some of the rocks that were embedded stubbornly in the dirt.

The plot must have been the size of a football field.

By the end of the hour and a half, everyone was covered in dirt and sweat. Kareef was laughing with Travis and Connor, saying something about rigging the Ares cabin up to ‘the big tiller’ and doing some weight training, while Bea hung off of Cecil, dragging them both to the ground to starfish dramatically in the dirt. Percy trudged over, arms sore and head pounding a little from the sun. Cecil tripped him right when he reached the other two and he went down like a bag of rocks.

“Oof! Percy you’re too heavy, ge’off me!” Bea rolled him over with a gentle kick.

“Ugh, I don’t wanna move.” He groaned.

When the harsh sunlight was blocked by someone leaning over them, Percy opened his eyes.

“Hey Katie, what’s up?” Cecil asked.

It was the scythe girl. Up close, Percy could see that her eyes were a dark green and actually had some light freckles across her cheeks though they almost blended in with the rest of her tanned face.

She looked a little uneasy, “I wanted to go check on something but I’m not allowed into the forest alone, and everyone else is busy.”

The unspoken request was clear as day.

“Yeah sure, we’ll come with.” Percy offered sitting up and rolling to his feet. He offered Cecil a hand as well. He may be exhausted from shoveling dirt around but Katie seemed pretty worried about something and he had the time to spare before lunch.

Bea grumbled about sunburn as she furled into a sit, then into a stand, dusting off as much dirt as she could, “Mhm, lead the way.” Percy glanced at her, she did look a little pink in the face and arms, but they would be in the forest so the shade should be a welcome break.

Katie offered her hat to her, “Here, for your valiant service.” she said dryly.

Bea sniffed, “You’re welcome.”

They let Travis, Connor, and Kareef know where they were going —to check on Thalia’s tree apparently— and set off towards the boundary line.

The woods were quiet on their way through, the only sounds being the gently rustling leaves and the typical noises of small animals scurrying around. Bea was happy to be out of the sun, that much was clear, but the rest of them (minus Katie) were too tired to do much besides keep walking.

They’d reached the boundary when Katie let out a short gasp, rushing towards the pine tree.

It looked fine to Percy, sure there were some needles on the ground but not a concerning amount. Then again, he was not the plant whisperer here.

Katie laid a hand on the trunk, stepping around it and over roots, doing a thorough inspection. Even Bea cocked her head to the side, brows furrowed, and frowned, as if something was bugging her about the tree.

“She is not doing well. I can’t pinpoint it but I saw her a few days ago and it wasn’t this bad. She’s getting worse.”

Katie tapped a nail against the bark, lightly scratching it, and a small piece fell off, “See? I shouldn’t be able to do that.”

“But isn’t that normal for a tree?”

Katie glared at him, “Not this tree.”

Percy held up his hands in surrender. “I don’t know anything about this tree besides the very basics.”

Katie stopped glaring but instead turned away to focus on taking samples from the tree. “This tree used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus.” thunder grumbled in the sky but Katie didn’t both to even look up. “She was with Luke and Annabeth when they were coming to camp. She sacrificed herself to hold back the monsters chasing them so that they other two could get to safety. When Zeus made her into a Pine tree, her life-force bonded to the magical boundary that was already in place around the camp, exponentially strengthening it.” Katie paused to take a small scoop of soil into a baggie. “Thalia wasn’t just turned into the tree, she is the tree, and the tree is the boundary. They are all permanently intertwined.”

“And now she’s… sick?” Percy asked.

“Yeah,” Katie lifted the clear bag of soil up to her eyes like if she stared hard enough she could figure it out. “Something like that.”

A sudden rustled startled them, as a large snake lunged from the undergrowth. Percy had Riptide out and swinging faster than his mind could register. Just as soon as they’d seen the snake, was its head separated from its body. The amphisbaena slithered backwards, its remaining head on its tail end trying to flee into the bushes but another sharp swing finished it off quickly.

The other three looked faintly impressed.

“And that,” Katie gestured to the snake corpse, “is what worries me. If pests like that can make it through, how long until the boundary degrades enough so that bigger monsters can get through?

The best I can give is about a month and a half, Apollo’s words came to the forefront. “...I’m guessing about a month and a half.” 

Bea looked skeptical, "No, I'd say six months." 

Cecil hit her shoulder because she was not helping.

Katie just glared at them all, "It was a rhetorical question. Come on, let get these sample to Chiron. He'll have some idea on what to do."

Chapter Text

Katie carried the soil sample like a particularly ugly fish from the fair; fascinated whilst at the same time scrunching her nose in abject disgust. “Ugh, it just feels so gross.”

“Do you want me to carry it?” Cecil offered.

“Nah.” She gave the bag a little shake, as if she was reminding it who’s boss.

“...I don’t want to say it’s just dirt, but…” Percy muttered to Bea as they walked just behind the other two, feet sinking into the soft moss and soil of the forest trail. The trek back towards the Camp proper had so far been rife with Katie’s muttering about dirt and trees and how it didn’t feel right.

“I heard that!” Katie called back to them, the irritation in her tone only partially faked.

She led them back the way they came, past plot number four, and through the strawberry fields. The berry laden bushes swayed without wind and their leaves brushed against Katie as she marched on, trailing a wake of lush greenness that bent as if to try and follow her.

Percy hadn’t given much thought to other campers and the kinds of inheritance they might have gotten from their godly parents. Plenty of them in the Hermes cabin were fairly normal if perhaps more quick on their feet than others. For the most part, nothing really stood out at first glance. Although maybe that was part of it, going unnoticed; it certainly played into the whole “God of Thieves” title.

But seeing the grass literally turn to face Katie as she passed through brought up all those kinds of questions. It made sense that a daughter of Demeter would be plant friendly (or in Katie’s specific case, plant-deadly: never forget the Scythes), and it made sense that Travis and Connor, being sons of Hermes, were incredibly fast and sneaky.

Which begged the question: what could he do?

The son of Amphitrite, Goddess of Calm Waves and Blue Seas.

He’d made a sinkhole appear and he’d used the beach sand to drown Echidna. Not very on theme if he was being honest.

Clearly she wasn’t a very heavily researched deity, so who’s to say. If Chiron hadn’t even remembered her symbol when he was claimed, then Percy wasn’t about to put much stock into what anyone supposedly knew about his mother.

Still, it was something to think about. Did he have water powers? Had he always had water powers? Or would he need a “blessing” like En had? The water had healed him in Utah, after the Underworld and Styx, it had kept him alive which had to count for something. Amphitrite was a goddess of the sea, Triton was a god of tides. Both very blue and water-based things.

He just felt that he was missing something, lying just below the surface. It itched at the back of his mind, that he wasn’t as he should be, that he was failing already at something that should be first nature.

When they finally approached the main cabin pavilion, Percy found the flurry of activity around the Apollo Cabin more concerning than continuing his internal debate.

His mother was crouched off to the side of the cabin, talking soothingly to a younger Apollo camper. The red-faced kid was sniffling and crying but seemed to be nodding to whatever his mother was saying, taking gulps of air and wiping his face with his sleeves.

Percy spotted Patroclus, Chiron, and Michael Yew a few feet away, all three in deep conversation.

Lee wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

A pit formed in his stomach, like a forewarning of doom and he wasn’t sure why, but he was running. He took off at a dead sprint before the others even had a chance to grab him.

His foot caught on the downslope and he tripped, rolling once, twice down the short hill before finding his momentum again to scrabble into a swift jog. He was almost at the cabin door when Patroclus caught him, pulling him to the side abruptly. “He’s fine. He’s fine.” The man put both hands on Percy’s shoulders, holding him steady instead of letting him barge right in.

“What happened,” Percy demanded, glaring up at him.

The tension was cut by the door opening as Lee leaned against the frame almost casually, “I was running some tests. The sample was more toxic than I anticipated.” Percy caught the slight tremor in his tone. “I need to speak with Chiron about my findings.” Lee turned away from them abruptly, towards where Chiron stood a short distance away.

Lee honestly didn’t look like he could make the short few steps towards Chiron’s side. He was pale, and visibly using the door frame for support. A moment passed when neither Percy nor Patroclus moved, the two of them were practically waiting for him to fall or stagger. Instead, Lee scoffed, standing up straighter and walking past them without a hesitant step or a backwards look.

The satisfaction of seeing Patroclus frown at such an explicit dismissal did nothing to lessen Percy’s concern. To put it mildly, Lee looked a stiff wind away from meeting Hades a second time.

The rest of Percy’s group, and most prominently Katie, jogged up to Chiron to present their own findings. Bea promptly sat on the ground either too lazy to stay upright. She was followed by Cecil, and then Michael. Only when Chiron lowered himself as well to rest on the ground, horse legs curled slightly to the side, did Lee give up on remaining the last one standing, and slide to the ground with inconcealable relief.

By the time Percy sat down with them, Katie had already dove into her preliminary analysis of the soil sample from Thalia’s tree, as well as the other symptoms of sickness she’d noted; softening bark, increased leaf litter, decreased water retention.

“It’s like she’s being dried out from the inside,” she concluded gravely, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Bea added how the amphisbaena had been able to easily move around the tree to take a shot at their ankles; raising the question of how the sickness of the tree would effect the wards surrounding Camp.

Chiron looked uneasy, dark brows furrowed as he shared a glance with Patroclus who had also approached the group to sit with them.

Lee took a breath before addressing the small circle of them, “I took a blood sample from Luke this morning,” he prefaced with a pinched expression. “I should have woken him up first, I know that, but he was just asleep and I thought maybe he wouldn’t even feel it.”

It was publicly acknowledged in the Hermes Cabin that Luke Castellan is a notoriously light sleeper. Anyone could have told Lee that if he’d just asked. But he hadn’t, which is clearly somehow relevant to why he now looks like something the harpies regurgitated.

“He woke up very disoriented and agitated, got me with a knife he had, and somehow during all that, the blood sample got spilled on the wound...” Lee showed his left hand where a long thin gash slicing up from his pinky knuckle to his wrist and halfway up the forearm. The wound was barely scabbed over. “This is the best we can do even with nectar and ambrosia. It won’t heal.”

More than that, the edges were already a bruised color, threads of blue branching out into the healthier skin.

Chiron held Lee’s arm gently to examine it closer, “I cannot fathom what would cause this. There are a few things but none that fit these specific circumstances.” His brows wrinkled as he considered it all, “I do not yet see a viable solution to our two problems.” He gave Lee’s arm back to him and sighed heavily.

“What do you mean.” Patroclus questioned flatly, daring Chiron to say what he was implying.

“The barrier is weakening and that endangers us all. We do not know what is causing this. Additionally, the sickness Luke has...I’m not confident it can be treated, if even a secondary exposure has shown this much resistance to our usual healing methods… we lack the resources and capacity to deal with one of these issues, let alone both.”

“So you want to just give up?” Percy accused, jumping to his feet. His mother put a hand on his shoulder and he jolted, not having realized she had approached the group from behind.

Chiron flicked his gaze to her and then back to Percy, his hand raised as if to gesture to calm down, “No. I have not given up, but it is certainly more complicated than we first thought. That is all I am saying.”

“You should send a quest.” Patroclus murmured, arms crossed. The others whipped their heads around to stare at him. “Traditional approaches haven’t worked, Chiron. You must know of something that could help at least Luke. While the wards falling would be a dire situation, it is not a death sentence.” He did not need to explain that Luke’s illness was a death sentence if left untreated. “We need things with more power behind them. Rare ingredients, artifacts, and the like. There has to be something,” He glared at Chiron harshly, “And you would be a fool not to at least try.”

Chiron didn’t have much of a visible reaction, but he held himself very stiffly as he answered, “γάλανθος. Also known as the moly flower. It is a powerful healing herb that only grows on Circe’s Island.”

“So we send a team of girls.” Patroclus offered.

“We have none that are experienced enough to even dream of surviving the trip”.

“What of the Hunters?”

“To the wind, as per usual.” Chiron replied.

The small circle of campers looked more grim with each suggestion shot down as Chiron and Patroclus went back and forth.

“What if you sent me?” The suggestion cut though the conversation like a javelin to the neck.

Percy turned his head towards his mother, eye wide. Her face was thoughtful, as if she was planning a day at the beach instead of a very dangerous quest. Everyone else stared at her too.

“Sally,” Chiron cleared his throat began before quickly realizing he had not a clue of how to end his own sentence. It was beyond clear however, that he objected to her involvement.

“You said Circe’s Island. You said you need girls only. Well, I’m right here,” she gestured to herself.

“You are not a demigod.” Patroclus didn’t mince his words.

“Is that a requirement?” Sally shot back. “Odysseus was not a demigod.”

“You don’t know how to handle any weapons. You have no experience with quests nor sailing.”

“I do know how to sail actually, and I don’t have a scent for monsters to track.” she counted those two points on her fingers, “I have as much experience with quests as any of the other girl demigods here, you pretty much said that yourself,” she counted a third finger.

“And how would you protect yourself?” Patroclus pressed, not letting her sweep his own valid points under the rug.

“I’d pray.” she responded flatly.

Everyone knew who had won the argument there. Sally Jackson had shown no great aptitude for weapons or fighting in all the time she’d been at camp.

“Mom.” Percy protested weakly. This wasn’t something to joke about.

But she didn’t look at him this time, she stared hard at Chiron and Patroclus respectively, “It’s not up to you, is it?” She spoke quietly, almost gently.

“This is pointless madness.” Patroclus warned,

“Mom.” Percy was more insistent this time, not liking the tone in her voice. It sounded like him when he was about to do something monumentally stupid.

Why? What was the point? Why would she want to go? Patroclus was right this was crazy!

A quiet had descended on the group too heavy for anyone to break.

Then, abruptly, she turned on her heal and left. Her steps were quick and it had the group scrambling after her, calling her name, asking her to stop and come back.

Patroclus walked hastily beside her arguing heatedly, hands gesticulating wildly, while she seemed to make her way swiftly to the Big House. Several times he went as if to grab her arm but stopped short.

The pit in Percy’s stomach was heavier the closer they got to the porch. Context was coming together too slowly for him. He was beginning to understand what she’d meant by ‘it’s not up to you’.

She wouldn’t. That’s crazy. Why would she even want this quest in the first place? It didn't make sense. This was all so far from the norm, it was entirely out of the blue. She knew what his own quest had done, who he'd lost, how he hadn't yet really recovered from it, and now this? He felt like in this moment he didn't understand his mom or even know her anymore.

...She wouldn’t ask the oracle for a quest. She wouldn’t.

Even if she did (which was unfathomable), it probably wouldn’t even give her one.

Right? Right?

“Chiron.” Percy jogged next to him, questioned the centaur whose own pace was slowed, as if he was aggrieved by what was unfolding, “The oracle doesn’t give out quests for people who aren’t demigods. Right?”

The silence was damning.

And the idea that his mother simply wouldn't or couldn't was starting looking like a bad bet. Percy took one look at his mother’s retreating form, to Patroclus buzzing around her like an angry wasp, then back to Chiron’s terrible frown.

He started running again. “Mom!”

He was running up the hill, the soil was soft under his shoes. It wasn’t raining. Not like last time. The sun was beaming down harshly, it was so bright. She was already on the porch, out of breath and glancing back at him. She grinned like it was just a race he'd lost and not a terrible mistake she was making. 

She grinned like she won a bet.

He tripped for a second time that day, and she shut the door behind her. The definitive click of the lock came just as he managed to get to the steps.