Years after the Giant war, Percy and Annabeth have finally settled down in New Rome, with four vastly different kids. Follow Callie, their eldest daughter, as she struggles to find her place in the world and come out of her parents, and siblings' Jacksons, you know trouble is always quick to follow.
In the years after the great war, stories of the greatest warrior that ever lived, Percy Jackson, were told and re-told. His tales reached far and wide, across the globe, passing frenziedly through the demigod communities — safely shrouded in Mist — like an airborne virus no one knew the cure for. The hero of Olympus, he was often called, the one who saved the world not once, but twice.
Cynics questioned the veracity of the stories. To them, he was nothing more than an exaggerated legend, who couldn't have possibly defeated Kronos, much less led the demigods to victory against Gaea, who was the personification of Earth itself. How could a simple half-blood, a child of the Big Three or not, go up against a Primordial and survive?
To others however, he was a beacon of hope, the awe-inspiring savior put up on a pedestal to be praised with wide-eyed admiration. Percy freaking Jackson was their personal heroes, and surprisingly, made for a rather good bobble head that was sold out within the first week of its debut in the market.
What about me, you ask. Which category do I fall into? Well, neither. To me, Percy Jackson is simply, dad.
"Lana! Hurry up we're leaving!" Mom yelled up the stairs for my younger sister, who, at fourteen years old, had decided that she was a grown woman and had to dress as such, though her definition of that was a mixture of two-drachma lipstick, and what looked like unfinished pieces of clothing from Aphrodite's Secret.
The first time dad had seen her in those skimpy little things, he'd promptly turned red in the face and demanded mom talk some sense into that child and why can't she be more like Callie?
Mom had sharply responded that no, wearing clothes that looked like they were bought at a discount from Goodwill wasn't exactly great fashion sense either —Thanks a lot for that vote of confidence, mom — and had ordered Lana to go back upstairs and change into anything but that. There's no way I'm letting you out wearing that!
Today, was unsurprisingly, no different. Lana had tried on her Mom I'm fourteen! You can't repress my identity forever cloths (yes, I meant to say cloths, they weren't fit to be clothes) to the stern glare from mom, and a "You are so not wearing that to Olympus", to which Lana begged and disputed and despaired against, only to amount to nothing but futile wails.
Mom wasn't exactly the type to give in.
"Atalanta!" Mom shouted again, and this time, my little sister finally emerged at the top of the stairs, in a sensible death-to-barbie shirt and ripped jeans.
It had been a Christmas gift from Aunt Thalia.
Mom eyed the outfit tersely, but said nothing. Beside her, my twenty-year-old-and-still-living-with-mom-and-dad older brother Theseus was grinning at a girl who looked like she could be Aphrodite's daughter over Iris-Message, who batted her eyelashes, mock abashment.
Castor, the baby of the family, bounced on the balls of his feet, glancing around excitedly. We all had ADHD, but Castor was the least adept in the waiting game, always fidgeting, drumming his fingers, tapping his feet, as if looking for a battleground he could finally let loose a few swings of his sword. He was like dad, in that way, and was adroit at combat, even at eleven years old.
And then there was me, slouching in the garishly yellow couch, dressed in what mom had termed as an amorphous Goodwill-at-a-discount outfit. I checked the time, and realized I didn't really care — demigods didn't have a good sense of time anyway, with the occasional monster-killing impeding our travels and all — but I was already ready to get this over and done with.
Today was dad's birthday but also Olympus' annual commemoration of the fall of the Titans, who'd tried to take the gods' seats of power by force; exactly twenty-nine years ago, dad had helped the gods defend Olympus against Kronos, and against all odds, won.
And yet, he'd lost so much even in his victory. Mom and dad didn't like to talk about it, but they had lost many comrades in battle, many friends they'd loved like brothers. Even as they'd won, they'd lost.
Mom beckoned for us to get into the car. Lana grumbled something about being forced to conform to society, and Theseus gave a sickening sweet you-hang-up-no-you-hang-up-no-you goodbye to his chick of the week, until Castor slashed a hand through the mist and bounded to the car, ignoring the murderous look Theseus lasered through his back.
"Where are we going?" Castor asked as he buckled himself in, though we already knew the answer.
Mom leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and sighed resignedly. "Olympus, darling, they're holding a feast to honor Percy, and the heroes."
It was the same celebration every year. The gods were nothing if not predictable. The same toast to the fallen heroes, the same overblown account of how the gods managed to overcome their immortal father, the same inquisitive and prying looks in our direction, the children of Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase.
And waiting, waiting for a sign to tell them all we were a force to be reckoned with just as our parents had been.
I turned my gaze to the window, where the scenery grazed past the glass with a blur. Leo Wind, the latest model of Leo Valdez' car manufacturing company, had been a Christmas gift from the inventor himself, who now lived with Calypso, my namesake, in the mortal world.
The car was able to manipulate the mist, through a combination of magic and mechanics and mask the speed we were truly travelling at — it could get us to the Empire State Building from New Rome in thirty minutes, tops — without sacrificing passenger safety. In fact, the car came equipped with celestial bronze cannons, hidden in the panels across the side, and jet engines, if a quick flight was needed. Tried, and tested, by Leo himself.
Last I'd heard, the company's mortal world counterpart was thriving, with its non-polluting fuel engines, and user-friendly smooth rides, though with perhaps none of the added enhancements Leo had given ours.
At the front of the car, next to mom, Theseus drummed his fingers into the dashboard, humming a tune I didn't recognize.
Theseus took after mom, effortless windswept honey hair, and one heck of an IQ, though his sea-green eyes were all dad's. Like our parents, he knew his way around a weapon, though he favored an Imperial Gold tipped with Celestial Bronze knife. He had gone on a quest, just last summer, to free some distressed satyrs, when they had accidentally stumbled into the lair of a lonely manticore, and had proven, once again, that he was hero material. Girls certainly seemed to lap it all up with ebullient fawning all over him.
Lana and him could have been twins, had she been a couple years older. Striking kaleidoscope green-grey eyes and wavy blond hair, she already had a trail of broken hearts underfoot. Her mental prowess was exceptional, and as a fighter, she was fast, strong, and ruthless. Small quests here and there, and people were adumbrating her to be one of the greatest heroes of our time, just like mom and dad. And yet she set off to be intentionally rebellious, as if homework and constant fight practice wasn't enough to occupy her time. Had she not been the daughter of the Percy Jackson, she might have been kicked out of New Rome for her insufferable antics. Mom and dad didn't know what to do with her.
Castor was no slouch either. With the same mesmerizing green-grey eyes, and jet-black hair, I had no doubt he would grow into a heartbreaker, despite his current awkwardness around girls. Intelligent and great with a sword, Castor was quickly getting recognized for his prodigal skills. Outside of the fight arena, however, he was soft-spoken, a quiet ball of buzzing energy that had a heart of gold.
Not literally, of course.
The car pulled to a stop; a majestic building loomed overhead, stretching into Zeus' domain, as the last trickles of sunlight melted into the nightsky, Apollo handing the reins of the sky over to Artemis. No doubt we'd see them at the party tonight. I couldn't help but feel as though we were about to be crushed into splinters any second, nothing more than a mere ant next to the towering construction beside us.
"600th floor," mom told the security guard idly sitting by the elevators, as if there wasn't a full blown-out Olympian party overhead.
As far as the mortal world was concerned, there wasn't.
The security guard inclined his head respectfully towards mom, ostensibly recognizing her, and waved us through, before turning back to his boring Nutrition for Dummies book. I didn't tell him he could probably sign up for Demeter's free lectures at the University of New Rome. Virtually no one attended those.
Cheery elevator music told a simple story of raindrops falling on heads, and I wondered why no one had told the singer about the miracle invention of the umbrella.
The doors slid open into a scene of party madness, gyrating and twirling people — or gods — moving in time to whatever music they heard. The music, just like almost everything here on Olympus, had been charmed to suit the tastes of each person.
I couldn't speak for everyone, but the moment Walk the Moon's Shut Up And Dance reached my ears, it was sheer willpower that kept me from jumping into the crowd and throwing my hands in the air.
Living in New Rome hadn't kept us up to date with many of the mortal world's cultures and advancements. So on the occasional trips to grandma's house, I had once escaped, briefly to a music store, and gotten an album with money I'd worked chores around New Rome for and saved up. Walk the Moon, I dreamt of seeing them live one day.
As if that would ever happen.
Lana had already disappeared into the dancing mass, while Theseus had seen a pretty nymph and followed. I stood, by mom and Castor's side peering at the horde before us, trying to figure out a way to cross over to the other side without getting trampled.
Hands wrapped around my shoulders as a girl flung herself onto me. I would have fallen had Castor not reached out at the last second to steady me.
I nodded gratefully at my brother and spun on my heel to meet the eyes of my assailant, an elfin little daughter of Hermes who happened to also be my best friend in the entire galaxy.
"Callie!" Selene sang. "I've missed you!" Even though she had seen me just two days ago, before I'd left Camp Half-Blood to return to New Rome for dad's birthday.
While I lived in New Rome with my family, I spent my summers in Camp Half-Blood, as many were free to. The hostile divide between the two camps had been settled in our parents' time, with many Greeks choosing to retire to the city of New Rome, while training at Camp Half-Blood.
Selene, being a first-generation demigod, found it easier to stay at the Greek camp year-round with her half-siblings. Living alone in an empty house in the city of New Rome, even just a street over from ours, wasn't exactly what she wanted, and she'd returned to Camp Half-Blood after a month's unbearably quiet stay, even with my daily visits to her house.
At that time, I had been too afraid of mom's steely gaze to broach the topic of moving out with my best friend at sixteen, so guiltily and regretfully had let my friend go, with promises to Iris Message her everyday. The promise didn't last, but thankfully, we always manage to pick things up where we left off every summer.
Selene was tugging me, pushing me towards the crowd and away from my family. I glanced at my mother, who was too busy scanning the crowd for dad to notice, though she must have known. She always knew.
I shrugged, and followed the girl as she whisked a glass of wine-nectar and led us to an empty table. A single empty plate lay atop it; Selene murmured something, and cronuts, Selene's new obsession, materialized out of thin air.
She offered one to me, and I shook my head. Those things were nothing but sugar, though Selene called me a pessimist and refused to listen.
She munched happily on one, then paused, setting down the pastry, to rummage through her items. Her hand emerge again, holding out two printed tickets to — my eyes widened — Walk the Moon's concert.
"What's the catch?" I demanded, narrowing my eyes at the two tickets of freedom. Hades, it was too good to be true.
She raised her eyebrows, unamused. "Who says there's a catch?"
I shook my head, laughing. "Oh there's always a catch with you Hermes' children."
A middle-aged man plopped into an unoccupied seat around our table, curly salt-and-pepper hair and bright blue eyes, complete with a disarming smile. There was a rustic charm about him, and surely a simple man like him could do no harm?
Unfortunately, I knew better.
"I heard my name," he said, by way of greeting, winking at me.
He was handsome, that is, for an older guy, who closely resembled Selene. Or I guess it was really the other way around. No wonder he had that many demigod children. I doubted many were able to resist his easy charm and soulful blue eyes.
"Dad!" Selene said gleefully, immediately offering him one of her sugared treasures.
I inclined my head respectfully, and Hermes turned to receive the gift with open palm, biting into the cronut thoughtfully.
Selene stared on hopefully, her hands clasped nervously on her lap, as if waiting for a verdict of approval. He gave her one, smiling fondly at his daughter, and I doubted either of missed the sigh of relief as she picked up her own half-eaten pastry and nibbled at it.
She, like many children of the gods, rarely saw her parent deity, and a second in her father's presence was more than enough to keep her smiling for an hour straight. Sometimes I thought about how lucky I really was, to have both parents present in my life, even if I occasionally resented how oppressed I was, stuck in a house of six people, locked away from the intriguing mortal world.
Hermes nodded towards the ticket, splayed out across the table like an offering. "Nice guys, they are. I take it you're attending their concert?"
Selene turned towards me expectantly, waiting for my answer.
I weighed my options. Here I was, finally given a chance to go out into the world, to do something normal teenagers my age would do, and the fear of being out there, in the world and away from my parents, free for the preying of monsters, was as nerve wrecking as it was exciting.
I thought of mom's stern grey eyes, of her possible disapproval, of her disappointed sigh, of the weariness that had started to etch into her skin, of please Callie, I have enough on my plate with all your siblings, please not now and my heart sunk in my chest.
Hermes' caduceus-phone-thing beeped, and he stood up, apologetically excusing himself.
"Don't knock it till you've tried it, kid," Hermes said, as if he could read my mind. Then again, he probably could. "It's always easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission."
He winked at me again, and my resolve solidified, somewhere deep within me. Then he waved goodbye to us, and vanished to do whatever godly duties that were probably bugging him.
Selene stood too, pulling me up with her. "He's right, you know. You never know until you try."
She began dragging me through the mass of people once again, pushing past some familiar faces, and others I didn't recognize, not bothering to stop and say hi. We reappeared on the other side, just outside the elevator doors I'd stood with my family not that long ago.
She pushed the button for the elevator, the light above beaming to announce its arrival.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
She shoved me into the elevator, and selected the first floor. I would have questioned it, should have questioned it, but something within me, perhaps the sudden springing of resolve held my tongue, and I stayed silent, watching, taking things as they were.
As with most descendants of Athena, I always, always, had a plan. It was the only way I knew how to live life, to make sense of the oddity of being a part of what should be ancient mythology.
There was a sense of comfort, of familiarity to structure, to logic, a sense of knowing exactly who I was, where I was. With a plan, I understood. With a plan, I was in control. With a plan, I was safe.
It wasn't until the doors opened again that Selene answered my question. "The problem, kid, is that you plan too much. You're a caged bird, and I'm setting you free." She spread her arms, as if offering me the whole of New York City. "This is the world. Let's go."
Following her wasn't part of the plan. Watching her hotwire a car wasn't part of the plan. And then getting into that said car with her and riding off into the distance, no, that was definitely not part of the plan. In fact, it contradicted everything I held dear.
But for some reason, I did it anyway.
Hola, it's Aeri. I'm new here. I can't wait to share this story with whoever may be reading this! Click the little button (Review) below to say hi or to tell me how I'm doing :) If not, see you at the next chapter!