She was the singer in the limelight, the trophy glinting in the victor's hands. She was perfect, the kind of perfect that is unattainable. (The kind of perfect that is unworldly.) She was the girl that could make or break your day, the girl that you always desired congratulations from. She was the prettiest model on the catwalk, the kindest star on Broadway. She was the feeling you got when your hair was done, your nails were painted, and your face was made up. She was one of the stars in the sky, beautiful, but unreachable. She was your confidant, your sister, your friend. She was your family.

She was the surprise party, the unexpected hug, the bright sun that shone bright enough to bathe the entire world in her gaze. She was the life of the party, the one who brought you back up when you were broken, the one who painstakingly put together the scarred puzzle pieces and made you the full picture again. She was the beautiful reflection in the mirror, the one you could never let shatter. She was the one that forced you onto the stage, the one that played matchmaker, the one that was always right. She was your advice-giver, your confidence-builder, your damsel in distress. She was your best friend.

She was the smile on a lover's face, the brightest grin in a photograph. She was the girl that you could pick out from a crowd of a hundred people. She was the one that stopped you from jumping into oblivion, the one that stayed with you in the unknown. She was the warm glow of a lamp in a musty library, the light at the end of the tunnel. She was the gold among the rocks, the rainbow after the rain. She was the warmth of the fire and the coolness of the breeze. She was the feeling of walking barefoot through soft grass. She was your lover, your angel, the one you trusted most in the world. She was your reason to go on.

The new camper, Destiny Vivaldi, looked up at the pink glow that surrounded her. It was the whole beauty package, the braided hair, the beautiful chiton, the sparkling makeup.

"All hail Destiny Vivaldi, daughter of Aphrodite," Chiron announced.

Some of the boys -and girls- looked at her with something different in their eyes. Something that hadn't been there before. Destiny looked ready to bask in the attention when a shadow crossed her face, and she frowned.

"Damn it," she cursed. "I'm in the same cabin as the traitor."

Half of the camp looked ready to strangle the daughter of Aphrodite, but Drew beat them to it.

The Japanese demigoddess stepped forward, her dark eyes flashing.

"No one, and I mean no one, insults Silena Beauregard," she hissed. "She was a warrior, a lover, and a friend. She fought a drakon for her camp, she was a fighter. So don't you dare act like you know what it felt like to suddenly become Head Counselor because your sister was dead. Don't you dare act like you were around when her shroud was burned, don't you dare pretend like you saw her makeup on her dresser, still opened, her bed made after the war. Don't you dare tell me that you felt the gap in the cabin, the silence that was caused by her death. Don't you dare," she leaned in close, her breath hot on Destiny's face, "Act like you knew her. She was a hero."

Stab. Parry. Sidestep.

Clarisse assessed her opponent. Her half-brother, Daimon Harris. He had arrived at camp a month before Destiny had. Strong, but reckless.

"Hey, Clarisse," he started as he defended an attack from the daughter of Ares, "Who gave you that bandanna?"

She unconsciously touched the sky blue cloth on her head.

"Silena."

It was a short, curt answer. The dead daughter of Aphrodite was a sensitive subject with most of the camp, but especially with Clarisse.

"Oh." Daimon paused, then attacked while she was distracted. Clarisse scowled, and jabbed him back a few feet. After a moment, he opened his mouth and said the words that would be his undoing.

"Wasn't she a traitor?"

The few people that were in the arena stopped, and focused on the pair.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Clarisse stopped, slowly looking at Daimon in the eye. Her voice was quiet, hardly more than a whisper.

"What did you call her?"

Lie, lie, you stupid child, LIE.

"A traitor."

Game over.

All was silent for a moment before Clarisse let out an echoing cry of rage and launched herself at Daimon. She fought with a passion, screaming with pure, undulated rage. In a matter of seconds, she had him pinned down.

"Repeat that," she sneered, hellfire burning in her eyes. "Say that again, tell me how my best friend was a traitor. Tell me everything I. Already. Know." Each word was punctuated with a jab to his chest. "Tell me things you think I don't know. Be the big guy, the better person, the boy who walks around like a man." With every word, her fingers tightened around her spear.

Daimon seemed to realize his mistake -finally- but it was too late.

"Well, I've got some news for you, big guy," Clarisse said, her voice shaking with emotion. (Tears, onlookers realized.)

"You can tell me that Silena Beauregard was a traitor. You can tell me that she betrayed Camp Half-Blood. You can tell me that it's a good thing that she died. But you know what? No one is going to believe you because Silena Beauregard was a hero. She fought a freaking drakon for camp. She owned up to her mistakes. She was the kindest, most beautiful person I have ever met. She was a hero. Remember that word: Hero. Because that's what Silena was."

The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and no one was dying.

Personally, Charles Beckendorf thought it was a pretty good day in Elysium. Then again, it wasn't like there were bad days in Elysium. He smiled down at the girl holding his hand. She was another reason there were no bad days in Elysium.

Her glossy black hair swung hypnotizingly as she walked beside him, her delicate fingers clasped in his. He smiled down at her, and she smiled back up with perfectly aligned, white teeth, her kind blue eyes sparkling. The girl he loved.

Silena Beauregard.

How lucky he was, to live in a place where there were no bad days.

(Obviously, the Fates could still touch him even in death.)

They were heading for their favourite coffee place (Silena loved their pumpkin spice latte's) when he heard two guys talking. Well, more than talking. Gossiping. And normally, Beckendorf would be perfectly fine with this because what other people say is their business. Then he heard a name that made him whip his head around, his ears straining to hear what the girls are saying.

Silena Beauregard.

The aforementioned girl tugged on his shirt sleeve. "Charlie, are you okay?" Her big blue eyes were gazing up at him with absolute trust and he nodded.

"Yeah, Lena, I'm fine." He gave her a brief smile to strengthen his lie. She nodded uncertainly and leaned into him and all he could think was how. How on Earth can he deserve her?

Just then, another word of the two boys reached him.

Traitor.

And all Beckendorf could see is red.

Abruptly, he turned around and strode towards one of the guys.

"Hey," he said, smiling. They turned to him, their faces settling into easy smiles.

"Sup, dude. And you are…?"

"Charles Beckendorf," he replied, grinning. The smiles on their faces gradually grew dimmer as they realized who he is.

"And that girl you were just gossiping about? She is a hero. She's beautiful, and smart, and braver that you will ever be because at least she owned up to her mistakes. Don't you dare act like you knew exactly what was going through her mind and don't you dare spread rumours just because you feel insecure that a daughter of Aphrodite led children of Ares into war. Her name isn't sneak, or liar, or traitor. It's Silena Beauregard. And she is a hero."

"And-"

Beckendorf shoved the two demigods up against a wall.

"Not-"

Drew yanked Destiny forward, a dangerous light flashing in her eyes.

"A-"

Clarisse shoved Daimon into the ground.

"Traitor."

DAMN that took forever to write. But it's done now! Which is, you know, a good sign!