Hey there, loads of creative bubbliness been going recently, and I thought I'd plan a new story, I have loads of ideas… so I hope you like it and it inspires you or whatever :) Enjoy !

Oh yeah, the stupid disclaimer…

Disclaimer: Do I look like an American man? No? Good..

Chapter One: Belle

I was having a bad day before I bumped into him.

It started in the morning, when Nicole, one of the Aphrodite princesses, failed us on cabin inspection for the third time in three weeks.

She poked her turned-up nose into the Hades cabin like it was a nuclear bomb site and minced in, wearing a pair of mini-shorts and a pink lacy blouse.

I rolled my eyes. I was on my hands and knees by my bed, attempting to perform a five-minute's-notice clean up in my area at least.

Of course, Arron's alarm had failed to go off again, and I've never been one of those chirpy-as-a-cricket, up-at-four-am girls. None of us three (us being me and my half-brothers, Nico and Arron) could get up before eleven without an alarm.

Nicole looked around our grim, black-walled cabin and sniffed. She un-capped her pink pen and made a neat cross on her clipboard.

'I'm going to have to fail you again, guys,' she said, in a mock-sympathetic voice. 'What a shame. I can see you've tried really hard this week.'

She flipped her hair behind her shoulder and turned on her heel, strutting out of the room as if it was a runway.

Nico cursed in Greek and sighed. 'At least after three weeks with no s'mores at the campfire, you get used to it, right?'

'No,' I retorted moodily. 'What a stupid, pink b-'

'Belle,' Arron cut me off. 'That's enough. I'll ask Travis if he can sneak out and get me a new clock radio for next time, don't worry.'

'Sure,' I said. I wasn't in the mood to talk, so I grabbed a damp towel off the floor and headed for the bathroom.

In the shower, I felt the hot water agitating my stress. Why was it always us who got the short straw? The Hades cabin was always the one who got picked on, and everyone turned their noses up at us.

If it wasn't for my half-brothers, (and the fact that I'd have nowhere to go and would be eaten by monsters within five minutes) I'd be long gone. I hated Camp Half-Blood, and I hated my stupid life here.

Someone knocked at the door.

'Belle,' Arron's voice came from the other side of the door. 'It's time for sword-fighting. You coming?'

I turned the shower off. 'Uh, sure. Wait a second.'

I quickly slipped out of the shower and wrapped a towel round me, rubbing my body dry before I threw on a pair of black shorts and a shimmery grey t-shirt.

I opened the door of the bathroom, and threw my towel on the bed, messing up my hair in an attempt to get it dry.

Nico and Arron were waiting by the door. We made a funny threesome – if anyone saw us on the street, they wouldn't guess we were all related, but I guess it's different when the parent you have in common is a god. All that stuff just makes my head hurt.

Nico's skinny and pale, with a mop of messy black hair and a troubled expression, like he'd been through something unpleasant in his past and was permanently trying to forget it. Of course, I knew all about him losing his sister – his real sister – three or four years back. That must have been hard, and Nico doesn't like to talk about it much. I knew how that felt.

Arron's brawny, with skin the colour of coffee beans, scarred from his past in the rough neighbourhood he escaped in coming here. He's taller than me or Nico, and under his short, tightly-curled hair, there's always a smile on his good-natured face. Unlike me or Nico, Arron's ADHD, a typical demigod sign, and his big, calloused hands are always fiddling with stuff in his pockets – paperclips, rubber bands, gold nuggets he finds on the forest floor in the woods. He's the oldest, seventeen, two years older than me and Nico and head counsellor of Cabin 13.

And then there's me – Belle Edwards. Unlike my brothers, I have pale blonde hair that refuses to curl or wave, just hangs straight down my back. My skin is even paler than Nico's. The Aphrodite girls laugh behind my back about it being the colour of milk. I'm taller than Nico, but shorter than Arron, and I have an annoyingly boyish figure with no curves whatsoever.

We all dress similarly, though, in spite of the differences in character and age. Hades' kids are all stereotypically supposed to be goths, which is unfair, but it is true that we're drawn to black and grey, colours of darkness.

Turning away from my brothers, I shoved my feet into sneakers and joined them at the door, grabbing my bow and quiver. Feeling the cool, smooth wood beneath my fingers calmed me slightly, and I slung my favourite weapons, a gift from my father himself, over my left shoulder as I reached, with a little less enthusiasm, for my Celestial bronze sword.

Chiron doesn't let me fight with just my bow and arrows, and makes me take a sword to practice as well, even though I'm not any good with a blade and I much prefer my trusty bow.

'Come on then, Bee,' Nico pulled my elbow out of the door and I blinked in the bright sunlight. Nico and Arron prefer staying indoors on sunny days, but I love spending time in the sun, and by the beach.

When I first arrived at Camp, I even wished that Poseidon, god of the ocean and earthquakes, would be my godly parent. I love the idea of causing earth tremors and controlling the ocean, even though I'm petrified of horses.

But I've learnt that your fate isn't even in your own hands. It was unfair that my own father had to take my mother before her time. It was unfair that I had to come here. And it was unfair that I was stuck in the worst cabin, with no friends and forced to use a weapon I couldn't even wield.

I tipped my head back, relishing the hot sun on my skin after a night in the dingy Hades cabin.

'Bee, we're going to be late, and then we'll be on washing-up duty after our s'more-less campfire,' Arron's voice broke into my dream world.

I opened my eyes and saw the boys a few metres ahead, turning round to wait for me.

'I'm coming, I'm coming,' I snapped, rushing forward, dragging my sword on the dusty path.

It didn't take long to get to the arena, a short three-minute walk. I tried to ignore the stares, the whispers.

'Look at those Hades freaks.'

'What losers.'

'Hey, Princess of Darkness!'

The last shout was from Nick Payne, that stupid Son of Zeus who thought he was such a big shot because his daddy was the Lord of the Sky.

His half-brother, Jack, elbowed him to shut him up. Anyone would have thought it was a nice thing, stopping his brother from insulting me, but I knew better. Jack was just as nasty as Nick, just as big-headed and thick-skinned.

For a brief moment, Jack caught my glance with his piercing blue eyes. I returned his look with a scowl and looked away quickly.

'Let's go,' I said, marching ahead of Nico and Arron, into the arena.

My half-brothers, knowing nothing of what had happened between me and Jack, looked confused at my sudden mood-change.

And they will never know anything, I reminded myself. I would die of embarrassment if Nico or Arron found out.

In the arena, Percy Jackson was standing in the middle with his girlfriend, Annabeth, chatting to the class and waiting for the latecomers, who were drifting in behind us.

I couldn't stand Percy, or his know-it-all girlfriend, either. Children of Poseidon were almost as bad as Children of Zeus, thinking they're so great just because their dad's the god of the ocean and all that rubbish.

Percy is the undisputed leader of the whole Camp, but I don't think he deserves it. Even if Nico has forgiven him for the death of his sister, I can't imagine how pig-headed you'd have to be to get a defenceless girl killed on a quest.

Instead of Percy being here, ordering everyone around in the arena, he should have been trampled in the place of Bianca and she should be here, maybe next to me. If I wasn't the only girl in the Hades cabin, maybe I wouldn't be so lonely. Maybe we'd be friends, best friends, even. Nico and Arron are nice, and they are my family, but it would be different, having a girl to share my secrets with and hang around with.

Sometimes I wonder what Bianca was like, whether she would have liked me, but whenever I ask Nico, he clams up and refuses to talk.

Anyway, back to the present.

When everyone had arrived, Percy clapped his hands for silence and looked around.

'Okay, guys,' he said, in his stupid, I-am-the-boss voice. 'There's a good turnout today, so we'll be working in groups of four and playing a two-on-two game which should improve your speed and skills. Remember, in a real battle, it'll be a lot quicker, but I just want to try and give you an impression of how it would be in a real-life situation.'

Another thing that annoyed me about Percy – the way he spoke as if monsters were going to attack us any second. 'In a real fight'… 'When you're in a proper battle'… 'If you're being attacked by a hydra, for example...'

He manages to patronise us, while 'preparing us for battle' at the same time.

'So, guys, group up!' Percy continued.

Arron and Nico and I usually work together, but today, Percy came over.

'I'm going to separate you three, today,' he said. 'You need to get used to working with other people if you're going to improve.'

I blinked. 'What?'

Percy carried on like he hadn't heard. 'So, Nico, will you go over there and work with Clarisse, Becky and Susan?'

Nico looked terrified at the prospect of facing three muscular Ares girls, but he gripped his Stygian iron sword and shuffled over.

'Arron, can you go with Annabeth, Simon and Kelsie?'

'Uh, sure,' Arron walked over with more confidence, he's a good fighter.

'And…Bella, right?' Percy asked.

'It's Belle,' I corrected. Idiot, I thought.

'Sorry, Belle. Hmmm, hard choice. You're not too good with a sword, Chiron tells me.'

I stared at him, mouth wide open in disbelief. It was all very well for me to criticise myself, but for Percy, who didn't even know my name ten seconds ago, to say I couldn't use a sword…

I pursed my lips.

'But, I've seen you fighting before.'

I raised my eyebrows.

'And I'm going to challenge you today. I'm going to put you with Rosalie, McKenzie and Anna, okay?'

He gestured to a group of three Daughters of Poseidon. I scowled. How come they got to stay together while me and my brothers got split up?

'And what if I don't want to?' I asked Percy, my eyes challenging.

He grinned as if I had made a childish joke, and handed me my sword. 'That's what I like to see – a little spirit. Now, go on.'

I took my sword and walked reluctantly over to the girls.

They were the sort of girls I didn't mix with, the girls who laughed about me behind their backs – at least, I knew that McKenzie and Anna did. Rosalie I didn't know as well – she had arrived only three or four months back, but she was already one of the most skilled girls at Camp with a sword.

The girls looked at me as I arrived next to their group.

'Look who it is – the Princess of Darkness,' Anna sneered.

I tried to ignore her and spoke to Rosalie, the only girl who wasn't scowling at me.

'Your brother – Percy – said I had to join your group today,' I said, trying to sound indifferent.

'Well that was stupid of him,' said McKenzie. 'He of all people should know how awful you are with a sword.'

'Hey, shut up!' I said. 'Or I'll -'

'Okay, is everybody ready?' Percy's voice came from the middle of the arena. There were murmured 'yeses' and he continued, 'I'll just be walking round to see how you're all doing, so try not kill me. On my whistle -'

Percy's shrill whistle sounded, and me and Rosalie were faced with the sword points of McKenzie and Anna.

I slashed and stabbed, my hatred for the girls who called me names and made my life misery at this horrible Camp making it easy to direct my energy.

Even though the sword was heavy and unbalanced, I felt my training from the past few weeks kicking in. Percy's words of praise about my 'abilities' had boosted my confidence, and I didn't even find it particularly hard working with Rosalie.

The rumours about her sword-fighting skills were not just rumours. She was seriously good, more than a match for her half-sisters.

We fought well together, me mostly on defence and Rosalie hacking her way through McKenzie and Anna's attempts at blocking.

Then, just when my sword arm was starting to weaken, I tried the disarming technique me and Nico had learnt a few days ago.

I reached forward with my sword, and my blade clanged against Anna's, low down, near the hilt.

This move caught her off guard. She hadn't been expecting that.

I slid my sword upwards, while twisting my wrist in a flicking motion, and Anna's sword dropped to the ground.

The look on her face was priceless. Me, the loner from Cabin 13 who couldn't wield a sword, had beaten Anna, Daughter of Poseidon, who trained with her half-brother Percy every day.

I smirked, and when Rosalie was standing close to McKenzie, her sword against her half-sister's throat, we high-fived, grinning as if we had been friends for ages.

But McKenzie and Anna were Rosalie's sisters.

When Percy blew his whistle for the second time, she walked off with them, not sparing a second glance to me, her fighting partner for five minutes.

I walked over to join Nico and Arron.

Nico had several nasty-looking cuts on his arms, but nothing the Healers couldn't fix. Arron looked virtually unharmed.

'How did it go?' I asked them.

Nico showed me his arms close-up. 'Just fine,' he joked.

'I saw you with those Kelp Heads,' Arron said. 'You weren't so bad, Sis.'

'I wouldn't exactly let those jumped-up mermaids beat me,' I said dryly, not mentioning my moment of friendship with Rosalie. 'It was a breeze.'

Arron was about to say something more, but just then, Percy came up and tapped me on the arm.

I looked round and gave him my best 'back-off' stare.

As usual, he grinned and ignored the glare.

'Hey, Belle,' he said. 'Could I talk to you?'

'About what?' I asked, not caring if I sounded rude.

'It's okay, Bee, we'll go,' Arron said, patting me on the shoulder. 'See you back at Cabin 13.'

When my brothers had left, I turned and faced Percy.

'What do you want?' I asked him.

'I couldn't help noticing you fighting my half-sisters,' Percy said, smiling good-naturedly.

I didn't say anything.

'You're good,' he said. 'Better than Chiron gave you credit for. You show quite a lot of natural talent.'

I scrunched up my nose. 'What is this about?' I snapped. 'Did someone put you up to this as a joke?'

'No, relax, Belle,' Percy said. 'I just wanted to offer you some private training. With a few extra one-on-one sessions a week, you could be really something to be proud of.'

I didn't like the way he was talking, as if I was a trophy to be polished, put in a glass cupboard and admired. I didn't like attention, and this was Percy Jackson, the boy who had let Bianca di Angelo die.

'Why would I want to have extra training sessions?' I asked him. 'I'm fine with my bow and arrows, thank you very much. I don't like sword-fighting, and I don't want to 'improve my talent'. I don't even like you!'

Percy wrinkled his brow, like he was trying to work out why I was refusing the offer of personal training sessions with him, the Great Percy Jackson.

'Are you sure? I mean, you're good, Belle, really good. You could be a champion.'

'Yes, I'm sure. And in the future, I'll definitely stick to archery with the dryads, not your stupid sword-fighting class.'

And I turned on my heel, leaving Percy Jackson in the middle of the arena, speechless.

As I made my way out of the arena, I took not the usual route up to the cabins, but the less-used path that lead to the edge of the forest. The ground was muddy, and I struggled up the track, deep in thought.

I was angry, so my thoughts were messed-up and confused. I couldn't think straight, and wanted to go to my favourite place, my only peaceful part of Camp, where I could be alone and think.

I had left my sword by the edge of the arena. I never wanted to see the stupid thing again, I never wanted to fight again, except to shoot a well-placed arrow between the eyes of Percy Jackson the next time I saw him.

Unfortunately, I had left my bow and quiver of arrows in the arena, and instead of fleeing Camp Half-Blood straight away, I would have to return to the arena first.

Of course I would leave. I had had enough of this Camp, of the people who hated me and pushed me away. I had had enough of even my brothers, who didn't mind the whispers and the taunting.

I made a plan as I stomped up the path. I would return to Cabin 10 after I had finished fuming, and pack a bag. I would leave that night, and attempt to shadow-travel somewhere, anywhere, away from here. Maybe Granny and Grandpa would take me in, forgetting the years of silence from me and my mother. We hadn't even spoken to each other at the funeral.

Bearing in mind, I hadn't spoken to anyone at the funeral.

Without meaning to, I cast my thoughts back to that awful black day, the first time I had thought about it properly for a long time.

I was younger then, even skinnier than now, and short. The funeral had taken place two weeks and three days after my mother's death, exactly one month, one week and five days after my tenth birthday.

I was wearing a scratchy dress made from nasty, heavy black fabric. It was too big for me, and I was unused to wearing a long dress, so I tripped over the hem a lot. Or maybe that was because my vision was blurred from the tears.

I remembered the day the police had come to my house and told me that my mother had been involved in a car accident; that another driver had crashed into her car, drunk.

There were lots of faces at the funeral that I didn't recognise, old friends and colleagues of my mother. My grandparents were there, but they stood on the other side of the room, not speaking, not acknowledging my presence.

At the burial, a woman's cold grip was on my shoulder, steering me outside into the cold morning. I scratched my arm; feeling lost, and followed the crowd of people to the graveyard, where a hole had been dug.

A shiny wooden box stood next to the hole. A coffin.

The tears stopped then.

A man in a black suit stepped forward, and began a long, boring speech about angels in heaven and how sorry everyone was about this 'great loss'.

I wasn't listening.

Then, the coffin was slowly lowered into the hole. I wanted to say something, to stop them – my mother had always hated holes and being in enclosed spaces – but I couldn't move, couldn't speak.

The man in the black suit started to cover the coffin with dirt, until it disappeared from sight. Still, my eyes were dry and tearless – I guessed I had cried myself dry that previous weeks.

Then, they asked if I would like to pat down the earth and put some flowers on top of the grave. I picked up the heavy spade and knocked it three times down on the soil. It seemed final, then. My mother was dead. And she wasn't coming back.

I took the bunch of flowers they offered me. They were fancy and frilly – just the type of flowers my mother would hate. They felt a tonne heavy in my childish hands.

I dropped the flowers on to the grave, and stepped back, my hands cold and shaking.

I was too lost in the past to notice the quick footsteps coming towards me.

All of a sudden, I was knocked into a bush by the side of the path which winded me momentarily.

I opened my eyes to see a concerned face looking down at me – a face I hated.

It was Jack Greye.

I opened my mouth to snap at him, but he held out his hand to help me up.

'I'm so sorry,' he said. 'Are you okay?'

'Save, it Jack,' I said, my voice sharp as a sword's edge.

'No, honestly,' he continued. 'I wasn't concentrating – do you want a hand out of that bush?'

'I'm fine,' I said. 'I don't need your help!'

I got up, brushing the wet leaves off my backside, and glared up at Jack.

'Listen, Belle,' Jack started to say.

'Jack, if it's to apologise about what happened last week, I don't want to hear it.'

'Belle -'

I didn't let him finish. I pushed his hand away and stalked off the path, into the woods, even more confused than before.

I know that was long, waay longer than I wanted it to be – sorry! I hope that just made it better, not too long and boring… so yeah, there's the first chapter, people – REVIEW!

Essie xoxo