Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson

A/N: So, this is the next "book" in A Series of Unfortunate Events (not by Lemony Snicket), the first one being When it Rains. It won't be too long, but it really all depends on how much material I can work with/how much I can come up with.

Recap: I'm writing a series of unfortunate events that was Luke's life from the day May decided to become the Oracle to the day Luke sacrifices himself to the save the world. The one you're currently reading takes place through the five years he spends at Camp Half-Blood before Percy shows up.

Hope you enjoy!

Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win. ~ Stephen King

άλφα—Alpha

The first three years at Camp Half-Blood weren't horrible, but they weren't the best of Luke's life in the slightest. In fact they were probably the worst three years of his entire life, even compared to growing up on the street, on the run from monsters. At least he had had Thalia and Annabeth later.

Now Thalia was gone, the girl he thought he loved, still loved. She was forever a pine tree, a horrible fate, worse than death. How could Zeus have done that to her? How could he have been so cruel?

Because he's a god, he's the god of the gods, a voice whispered. It was true, he was a god and none of the gods really cared about their children. Courting someone and then ditching them as soon as the child is born, never to see or hear from them again, not even after they've found out that they're a half-blood. Not even after they've found out that their lives will be lived with danger and death at their doorstep until their fateful day comes.

It had taken a while for Annabeth to cope with Thalia's "death". It was a long time before talk of her story finally died down and Luke and Annabeth could finally rest from the questions and telling and retelling their "adventures", if you could call them that. But Luke was by her side the entire time. Of course Annabeth was a strong, wise girl, but she was only seven then, she needed support and stability in her life.

Now their bond had grown stronger and they'd grown closer. They were practically brother and sister.

Luke still hated the gods, his father even more so now. The one and only meeting with his father had been burned in his mind, forever playing back as Luke thought of all the things he wished he'd said, and all the things he'd wished Hermes had said. But Luke remembered one thing he knew for sure Hermes had told him: I will see that you get a quest soon.

As much as he hated his father, there was still some small part of him—the nine-year-old part of him—that wanted to believe that his father did care and love him like he'd said. That his father was going to put in a good word or two to whoever assigned quests about him and he would get redemption. If he came back alive and succeeded then maybe his father would recognize him more.

And it was that little crystal of hope that had Luke training in the Camp arena as much as he physically could and as much as his schedule allowed. He trained with the best of the best at sword fighting and some hand-to-hand combat. He wanted to know it all, he wanted to know the tricks of being a good swordsman, how to disarm, how to defend, how to fight without a shield, without armor, with a shield. You name it, Luke strived to learn and be the best at it.

Soon he was beating the veteran kids a camp, disarming them with little to no effort.

Then finally Luke's day came.

He was training in the arena when Samson from the Apollo cabin came down and told Luke he was wanted at the Big House immediately. Luke was reluctant to just drop everything, because he was in the middle of training, and he'd hate to just leave, but Samson's tone wasn't light.

With a sigh, he told Samson he'd be right there and went to put away his armor, shield and sword before jogging up to the Big House.

Chiron, a centaur with brown curly hair and a beard, was waiting for Luke inside. Luke bowed respectfully upon his entry, and slowly walked further in.

"Um, you wanted to see me?" Luke asked looking at Chiron.

"Yes, my boy, it would seem that your father has assigned you a quest." Chiron confirmed.

"What do I need to do?" Luke asked holding his breath, eagerly awaiting the answer.

Something flashed in the depths of Chiron's eyes, but it was gone before Luke could figure out what it was. Even so, it was clear that Chiron was a bit wary about telling Luke what his quest was going to be about. Was it really that bad? Was it life-threatening?

"The Garden of Hesperides," Chiron informed him. "Steal a golden apple from the Garden of Hesperides and bring it to Mount Olympus."

Luke exhaled loudly. "You mean... you mean something that Hercules has already done?" he queried trying to hide his astonishment and anger toward his father.

"This is not an easy task," Chiron reminded him, seeing some of Luke's displeasure in his wide blue eyes. "It is quite an honor that Hermes has assigned you such a dangerous quest that only the strongest, wittiest, most skilled person could complete."

Luke took a deep breath trying to get a hold of his emotions. All his training for three years straight, and this was what he had to show for his skills? Repeating something someone's already done? He'd go on this quest, but it wasn't for the reasons you'd think. He was just humoring Hermes and Chiron and the gods if they were interested in watching.

A couple of long, grueling hours later Luke was in California, standing in front of the road that would lead him to the Garden of Hesperides. The air reeked with the stench of cough drops practically smothering Luke's sense of smell. It was like he wasn't breathing in oxygen anymore, just the smell of exhaled chewed eucalyptus leaves. Luke knew from reading and studying that dragons liked eucalyptus to take the bad breath away (in fact most monsters did). But, in Luke's opinion it seemed like taking eucalyptus to lessen bad breath was like eating onions in the morning instead of brushing your teeth.

After a few coughs and a small pep talk Luke started up the winding, narrow road that tore through forests and bordered ravines.

Fog and clouds weaved through the trees and floated over the ravines. When Luke passed all of that nature and got to the almost-barren cliffs, with wilted, yellow grass and plenty of rocks to go around, the fog then seemed to swirl around Luke now that it had nothing to cling onto.

Ignoring this as best he could, Luke concentrated on the road and the path ahead. As much as he didn't want to be here, he was already here and there was really no turning back.

After a while longer Luke hit a sheet of pure Mist. Looking out across the cliff at the picturesque scene before him he determined he'd have to wait fifteen minutes at the most before sunset.

Just great.

Now he had fifteen minutes to kill. With a sigh, Luke started pacing, twirling his sword around, his mind thinking about this "quest" Hermes sent him on. How ridiculous it was. Where was the glory, the honor is repeating something that has already been done before, by a great hero whose names lives forever in the minds of mortals and demigods alike?

It sickened him. He trained until he was on the verge of throwing up. He'd trained with blood, sweat, and tears. He'd brushed up on his Greek mythology. He'd done everything he possibly could to prepare himself for this day and now the day has come. Only it didn't feel like his day. It felt like he was being stomped on by the shadow of Hercules, by the gods, by his father.

A hero before his tragic fate that Hermes refused to tell him—sure didn't feel like it. Where the campers really going to praise and be excited for Luke if returned successfully? He highly doubted it.

Luke looked up and realized that the sun was starting to set. Taking a deep breath, he turned toward the now shifting sheets of fog and Mist. With another short pep talk, Luke stepped forward into the fog and focused on his goal: the Garden of Hesperides.

Not a moment later Luke exited the fog onto a dirt road. Looking out across the ocean the sun had half-sunk beneath the surface of the waves, cutting the calm sea waters in two. The red streak making it look as if the ocean was actually bleeding. The grass here wasn't as wilted and thicker. If Luke looked up he could see the peak of the mountain where Atlas bore the weight of the sky, keeping it from connecting with Mother Earth.

Finally Luke looked forward, his target very easily spotted. He followed the path as it led into a meadow of lush, dark green grass, and shadows being thrown across the ground. And as Luke slowly walked forward, the sun sunk below the waves extinguishing. The garden sparkled delicately with the glow of twilight. The flowers scattered around had such a brilliant color Luke's eyes perceived the illusion they were glowing in the dark.

Within the meadow black marble stones led up to a five-story apple tree that glistened and shimmered with the glow of golden apples, the real golden apples. The stones split into two, curving around the tree… and the dragon surrounding it. A dragon that Luke couldn't even begin to imagine in his worst nightmares: Ladon.

The body was thick, large, and serpent-like that glistened with bronze scales, probably to compensate for the size of the tree, Luke assumed. Following the large body, Luke found its head—or rather, heads. At least a hundred of them, but Luke really didn't want to take the time to count.

It gave him a headache just looking at all the heads. Some were on top of another, some were intertwined with each other, and some were curled up alone. From what Luke could see, it was taking a little dragon nap, for its eyes were closed.

Luke wasn't exactly sure how he was going to skirt past it and grab one of those, luscious smelling golden apples without waking the great beast. It wound itself around the trunk, its heads in a pile, at one side. So, obviously, Luke was going to sneak up on the opposite side. Even if Ladon awoke this would give him at least a second or two to prepare for the snapping of a hundred heads all in his direction.

As Luke neared, the sound of soft singing somewhere in the garden floated toward his ears. It was an eerie tune, almost like a lullaby, but a little more depressing. Maybe something like a funeral dirge? Whatever the case, Luke needed to focus.

For a moment he paused suddenly remembering what that singing meant, the Hesperides. He scanned the garden, his heart pounding in his chest, waiting for them to reveal themselves. After a few moments of nothing, he guessed they knew of his quest and were leaving him be… for now.

Slowly, he stepped forward, careful to place his feet softly on the grass. He kept his breathing shallow. One hand held his sword just in case, and the other was free, ready to pluck an apple from the tree.

Even with all his precautions, his body was just going through the motions. Luke's mind was still boiling over the assignment of the quest rather than the quest itself. One large exhalation of breath and that was all it took for Ladon to wake.

It was Luke's lucky day: Ladon must've been a light sleeper.

Luke gripped his sword and had it at the ready even though the thought of taking on a bronze, hundred-headed dragon made Luke's stomach churn. It didn't seem possible that anyone would ever be able to battle this thing and win. But, that was the point, wasn't it? It was supposed to be an undefeatable dragon so that demigods would have a very hard time stealing an apple.

The only logical thing Luke could think of doing was distracting Ladon and running. He obviously was not going to succeed in this quest.

Luke's day just got better and better by the minute.

The only question was how was Luke going to make a distraction that posed a bigger threat in Ladon's mind?

The dragon's heads lifted and trained all two hundred eyes right on Luke filled with hatred. There was a symphony of hissing as its mouths opened. But that wasn't the worst part; the worst part was Ladon's breath. The eucalyptus leaves had no affect on this dragon's bad breath.

Luke gagged and almost dropped his sword, the stench made his stomach tighten, the hairs on his arms stand on end, chills run down his spine in waves, this morning's breakfast almost came up again.

Then the heads lunged. Still reeling from the stench, Luke leapt to his right and somehow, by a miracle, managed to get out of the way of Ladon's snapping jaws. But only by mere inches, and that was only because its heads were farther on Luke's left than his right.

Luke quickly got to his feet and braced himself for another attack. Ladon's heads came speeding down like rain. Luke deflected what heads he could with his sword, while trying to dodge the others. Ladon retreated, but Luke was too soon to judge and let his guard down for one second. One of Ladon's heads that was slower to retreat snapped at Luke's face.

He pulled back in a jerk, ADHD reflex, but one of the dragon's teeth sliced through his cheek, like a hot knife cutting through butter. Luke howled in pain as blood shot from his open wound and reached up to cover his laceration. The thick, dark red liquid was strange in such a beautiful place like this. The blood flowed freely down Luke's face, covering his hand and dripping onto the lush, green grass.

Luke's knees almost buckled from the pain, but somewhere inside his foggy brain a voice whispered to him. He needed to push through this and run! Just run as fast and as far as he could, away from this place, to safety. Not even looking to see where Ladon was—which was probably a stupid choice—Luke forced his muscles to respond to his commands and booked it out of the garden.

Luke kept blindly running, pushing through all the fog and Mist, threatening to suffocate him. His head pounded and he felt as if he was taking a bath in acid. His skin burned and his insides boiled. Luke fell to his knees, still holding his bleeding face, collapsing from exhaustion and pain. But it wasn't the physical pain that caused this. No, far from it, it was the pain of knowing he'd fallen short on his quest; the pain of knowing that his own father sent him in to this.

If he had just cared enough to think of something more original, more creative for Luke to do, that worked his skills in swordsmanship and problem solving and the history of Greek mythology, then maybe this would've never happened. But it was too late to turn back now. Luke had ultimately failed and would have a scar forever showing his failure.

Luke stood on Half-Blood Hill, next to Thalia's tree, looking down over the valley. He was returning now, from his blundered attempt at a quest. His face was bandaged, the cut from Ladon's tooth running from just underneath his right eye all the way down to his jaw.

He looked down at the valley with contempt, stuck here for the rest of his life. Just thinking about that made Luke's jaw tighten and his hands ball up into fists. He turned and looked at Thalia's tree wistfully, all anger dying from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Thalia." he murmured. With those words, Luke trekked down the hill and into camp. It was hard to hold his head high in the face of the many camper's pitiful stares. That's all Luke ever saw anymore, was pity. It made him absolutely sick. Pity, pity, pity! He didn't want their pity!

Luke stormed into the Hermes cabin, more eyes locked onto him, all full of more of that pity.

"What?" he snapped. The camper's heads turned down and away, and the quiet murmuring started up. Gritting his teeth Luke went over to his bunk and sat down heavily.

That was it; that was the last straw.

He had had it with the Olympians. Every last one of them. Luke had to force himself to stay on his bed, the urge to go up to Mount Olympus anyway and tear the throne room down stone by stone.

They were all going to pay. It didn't matter if they hadn't anything to do with Luke's quest. They'd done plenty of horrible things to other people without a second thought that they needed to be shown that there were consequences to actions like that. He wanted to see his father, Hermes on his knees, squirming and begging for mercy. Mercy that would never be given, just like all of Luke's unanswered prayers.

It was about time the age of the Olympians be torn off their pedestal and crushed to ruins, and for a new age to begin.

All right, I know it was a little rough, but it was hard writing about something that was only mentioned briefly. But I hope you enjoyed anyway. To my other readers, I apologize for the delay, writer's block!

thank-you-for-everything

~ See you at Camp Half-Blood!