I came up with the idea late last night and wrote bits and pieces during my break at work- so I hope that this makes as much sense as I think it does, because I quite like this story. One of the most interesting characters in Riordan's universe, to me, is Chiron- for so many reasons. The first time I read The Lost Hero, his conversation with Jason about hoping for one last victory during the Titan War and of losing so many heroes and of knowing so many things... it broke my heart, to be honest. I liked it a lot. I hope you like this as well.
Disclaimer: I don't own the lyrics used or the world used below.
the land of might have been
Somewhere there's another land
Different from this world below
Far more mercifully planned
Than the cruel place we know.
Innocence and peace are there-
All is good that is desired.
Faces there are always fair;
Love grows never old nor tired.
...
Between the legions of demigods swarming Camp Half-Blood and the incessant problems and quests and adventures and daily logistics of running and maintaining camp, Chiron rarely had a minute to breathe. He would sit down for a second and Mr D would want to play cards, or Cabins One and Three would have gotten in a fight again. Maybe the children of Nike were arguing to see who should be counselor now; Cabin 11 had possibly invaded Hypnos' cabin to use as a headquarters for their prank coordination while the children of Hypnos slept. Maybe the children of Ares had tried to steal the winning capture-the-flag banner and title from Cabin 10 by force. Cabin Nine may be skipping meals to work on a project again- Cabin Six possibly with them…
But when he did (have a second to breathe, that was), he liked to think about them.
He liked to look at camp and, though it had changed so much, he liked to look at Half-Blood Hill and picture them waving goodbye to him after the summer was done. Or look at the climbing wall and remember how gleefully they'd screamed when they'd reached the top for the first time. In the middle of dinner, sometimes he froze and remembered the times when their pranks had caused the ruckus, or their laughs had bounced off the tables and the columns, or that they'd waved at him while in line for the sacrificial flame. They'd moved on from camp, from their childhoods, so long ago, yet everything was present and future and present mixed together (to Chiron, that was).
He liked to think, now that they were gone, about the rest of their lives.
luke
a tire swing in childhood memories
constant homesickness
getting takeout at 3 am
always in between odd jobs
breathless excitement
constant motion
improvisation
ridiculous tips
bright smiles, easy grins
dog-earing books
counting stars
dark humour
going to festivals downtown
a first-names-basis with the bartender
never making the bed
a studio apartment with a cracked bathtub
taking the subway everywhere
blogging for extra cash
putting videos online
watching long documentaries on conspiracy theories
drinking a bit too much but forgetting well
breakfast for dinner
waking up in vegas
spontaneous trips (please water my plants)
accidental flirting
faithfulness through and through
a girl with colourful stripes in her hair
an unpredictable life
charles
dust everywhere, very little cleaning
rough fingertips
the hum of machinery
a solid resume
a strong handshake
steady hands
sturdy shoulders
calming voices
sawdust
nuts and bolts
a nice routine
duct tape holding the world together
a measuring tape sliding back in
exposed brick walls
the smell of toothpaste and aftershave
blue papers covered in designs
a treasured motorcycle
blasting music in the car
chicken grease
sitting down for supper every night
bringing the kids to the park (all of them)
going to mom's for lunch every sunday
putting hot sauce on everything
the hum of a power saw
bringing flowers home at random
walking into work with lipstick stains on his cheek
a life well built
leo
the smear of charcoal
the smell of a campfire
the stickiness of a toasted marshmallow
the click of gears notching into each other
fingers drumming against a table
whistling while he worked
almonds to snack on
the heat of spices
callouses
the banging of a hammer
tweezers picking at wires
superstitious lucky charms
an endless imagination poured onto a sketch pad
inappropriate jokes and corrective slaps across the cheek
a family at last
drinking at bonfires with friends;
the aftermath under the stars
soft work gloves
an engineer's ring
yesterday's t-shirt
pockets full of loose change
finally a girl he would not joke about
a name rolled around his mouth like a prayer
a shy confession
a baby held uncertainly
a life surprisingly full
percy
the stench of chlorine
the smell of salt in the air
all nighters
hard work
eye contact
a likeable smile
keeping things simple and under the radar
calling home on weekends
not wearing shoes
trying very hard
a treasured diploma
loose ties and shirts buttoned wrong
the smell of hay
callouses from the reins
working with animals
teaching children
helping others
never learning how to lie
a small wedding with a short ceremony and lots of booze
twinkling eyes
sleeping in on the weekends
constantly making runs to the grocery store
night sweats
bad puns
a human shield
struggling to build the crib but doing it right and doing it well
keeping too many pictures on his phone
a life well earned
annabeth
lemongrass
graduating with honours
the smell of old books
the scratch of a pencil against graph paper
chapstick
the click of high heels on an office floor
a membership for yoga
falling asleep over a good book
a single shot of tequila every friday night
binge-watching crime shows on netflix
playing board game
minimalist décor
buying a white dress at target two weeks before the wedding
sight-seeing
picture-taking
lunch between two meetings
a smile worth the work
bustling airports full of business people
hell hath no fury like a woman scorned
well worn jeans
a city skyline in the morning
the power to see right through a child's lies
historically accurate bedtime stories
tough love in a loving home
a life that's permanent
piper
spotting shooting stars
paper lanterns, fairy lights and blanket forts
experimental hairstyles
a post card collection
playing darts at the bar
a scarf collection that gets out of hand
dancing like the ancestors
the smell of cinnamon
a pet ferret
movie nights
big cardigans and colourful nail polish
volunteering
the cutthroat world of politics
smiling for the press and being best dressed
unapologetic activism and loud blogging
a part to play in the media
a pinterest board for food
redecorating for fun
singing with the radio
changing into pajamas after work
being the navigator on road trips
bringing brownies to the office
gender-neutral baby clothes
going to every single play and recital and game
love notes in school lunches
a life to finally be comfortable in
jason
the smell of mint
mediating fights and passing messages
the smell of ozone
flashes of light and clouds rolling in
working out a lot
trying exotic cuisine
cold showers as if water is still rationed
rolling the sleeves of a button-up shirt
the sound of a ball bouncing
dinosaur nuggets and french fries and pudding cups and a late childhood
driving miles and miles and pulling over for small diners and cheap tourist traps
always looking for his glasses
being tired of leading
cropped hair
a steady and mellow style
reading the newspaper and doing the crosswords
learning to cook
sticking to a routine
finding the best Christmas presents months in advance
holding the door for people
always touching the back of his neck
scribbling on a chalkboard and grading tests at midnight
good taste in rings
kissing the bride before the minister finishes his words
wanting to be so much better
staying up all night when the baby has a fever
crying when she learns the word dad
a life to finally fit into.
will
a collection of well-loved vcr tapes, rewinded and rewatched
piles of textbooks
starting conversations with strangers
adopting stray cats
leaving all the lights on
giving ridiculous names at starbucks
trying ever crane machine in sight and buying bubble gum for a quarter
working weird hours
soap bubbles while scrubbing up
lounging around shirtless
paying bills at the last minute
the smell of rubbing alcohol
giving lollipops to children in the emergency room
ordering mri and cat scans
giving bad news to good people
coming home and crawling into bed without any explanation
nerf guns have no age limit
a caffeine addiction
ordering chocolate milk at a restaurant
a wedding at sunrise and a reception until dark
paperwork and paperwork
lists of baby names
a life with enough happiness to lighten up the bad
nico
odd jobs and random quests
being summoned to the underworld without context
rubber bands snapping
burning toast and cussing
learning to fit in at family gatherings
hidden tattoos
wanderlust
scary stories
a favourite mug
the little spoon
forgetting meals
no sleep pattern whatsoever
never shaving
pitching scripts to hollywood
paycheck to paycheck
a garbage can filled with protein bar wrappers and red bull cans
swearing in other tongues
picking up foreign languages
giving out big candy bars on halloween
a fascination with antiques
long sleeves in the summer
the backlight of a computer
a wedding at twilight and a party until midnight
the smell of mama's tomato sauce
staying home with the twins
helping with math homework
a life deserved
Yes. Chiron did quite like thinking about them in these ways. Now that they were gone from camp and this earth for good, he liked to think about the rest of their lives (as it all should have been, that was. Not about how it had all really ended).
As he watched camp with a worried eye, rebuilt years after the streak of wars, he liked to imagine that the land was a lot cleaner of the blood it had seen. That his proteges weren't in as much danger as they were, though that old was hope and centuries-old. He liked to think of adventurous twenties and panicky college years and of beautiful lives and teary weddings and happy births. He liked to think of what he could not have, all the things that had been lost to this world, and lost to some very young, very deserving children. He had built worlds and worlds in his head- worlds where Kronos had not whispered in anybody's ear, worlds where Rachel Elizabeth Date had never uttered a single prophecy, worlds where Mother Earth was nurturing and every variation of the world except for this. Sometimes the weddings were big, sometimes they were small (Chiron was always invited). Sometimes there were children, sometimes there were demigods having adventures until their hair turned gray and they were put in nursing homes. Chiron had created a real and completely new universe in his head.
But if it took only his mind, if it took his prose and his imagination to make them breathe and live again, then Chiron had no opposition to hosting this world.
We shall never find that lovely
Land of might-have-been
I can never be your king nor
You can be my queen.
Days may pass and years may pass
And seas may lie between-
We shall never find that lovely land of might-have-been.
-The Land of Might-have-been, Novello