A/N: So this is where I start summarizing the series. This chapter is the first three books, Lightning Thief, Sea of Monsters and Titian's Curse, from Alana's perspective. (It is worth noting that by the events of Lightning Theif Alana is about 10 or 11.) If you think I have skipped over a detail that is important, please tell me. I'm doing this mostly from memory, but trying to keep this part as close to canon as possible, just with a different view. Also, I'm using BadWolfCosplay's version of the Camp beads, because I think they fit really well. Their on Esty for those who are interested.
Chapter 3: The Trident, The Fleece, and the Hunters.
My life at Camp Half-Blood, let's just say it was never uneventful. In the four years before Zeus's master bolt was stolen and Percy arrived at camp, I did what everyone did. Trained, studied, played music, and trained some more. I learned how to be a field medic from Will, how to be an excellent marksman from Kayla and Lee, how to sing like an angel and play instruments from Austin. I watched my siblings grow up and leave for College. Some came back, some didn't, but that was part of the life. Of course, being a demigod means nothing stays normal for long.
My headaches started the spring after I arrived at Camp. March 21st, an equinox, a day of perfect balance.
It was dawn, before anyone else was awake. I was woken from my careful watch of my Roman half by a harsh tug in my gut. I knew I shouldn't have had the chili.
One stumbling trip to the bathroom later, the tug is only getting stronger. It travels up my spine, becoming a burning spike in my brain. There is a voice, demanding and shrill. Awaken. Become. Awaken. Awaken. Awaken! My hands start to shake, scribing words into the air. Write. Write. Write and see.
So I find a pen and take a piece of scrap from Rose's art supplies. Yes, yes, yes. Write. See. Become.
I wake up in the infirmary, hand and eyes aching. There are bandages wrapped around my right hand, delicately, to cover every niche and cranny of the fingers, spotted red in some places. Ow… What did I do? I try to flex the hand, and nearly cry out in pain. Hot points of fire reside on the pads my thumb and forefinger and even more intensely on the first bend of my third finger, right where a pen would rest. Every muscle aches, the wrist, the forearm, the shoulder.
"You're awake!" Kayla's voice is strangled and wet, she's been crying. Like that first night, she bounces over and lands in my cot, throwing her arms around me. I hiss when she bumps my arm and she pulls back immediately. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Oh, gods that croak. If only Austin could hear me now, he'd be so ashamed. He always says my voice is my best feature.
"Scoot, Kayla. She can't have visitors yet." Will comes out from behind the curtains. Kayla pouts, but slides off the bed and stomps away. He takes my bandaged hand, inspecting it thoroughly before the bandages come off. My hand is blistered and bloody, the joints of my fingers stiff and bruised and blue. Will tsks, and doles out a portion of nectar in a cup. "Drink, slowly."
I take measured sips, which alternate between cool lemonade and hot green tea, while my brother works on my hand. No, this is not Will, my brother, this is Will, the Medic. The blisters and sores slowly close up, and the bruises go away, but the Medic rubs in an ointment, working the joints as if I have arthritis.
"What did I do?" My voice is smoother now, and I can flex my hand, thanks to the nectar.
"You were writing, the same thing , over and over. Lee's with Chiron, tryin' to figure it out. You scared the hell outa me, Laney." I wince. It's my fault, making him worry. I'm a terrible sister. Before I can say so, Chiron and Lee part the curtain and step inside my cubicle, and Will takes that as his signal to leave. The curtain sways at his leaving, and slides a few inches, showing the busy Infirmary.
"Miss Martins, I am glad you're better. Can you tell us what happened?" Chiron's smile is bright and caring, and I tell him about my stomach ache, and the burning spike and the ache I had to write write write. Chiron looks pensive, and nods to Lee.
"This is what we found you with. Does it mean anything to you?" He hands me the scrap of paper, it's ripped and messy, and there is layer after layer of ink. The words are hard to find, under all that. But I can see the symbols, see that they mean something, I can make it out, I can…
Lee stops breathing. So does Chiron. Even my siblings in the room beyond them are still, like the Camp's biggest game of Freeze Tag. I panic for a minute, leaping off the cot to shake my brothers shoulders. A shower of golden glitter falls and I am calmed.
"Hello, my dear." With a smooth baritone, my father appears only a step away. Longing fills me.
"Papa!" I launch myself into Apollo's arms. "I missed you so much!"
"Don't I know it, SunBurst." I giggle and he touches my nose. "You've made me very proud, Alana. Me and Artemis and your mother, we are all so very proud of you."
"Does that mean I can have Roma back?" I sweeten my voice and make my eyes wide and pleading. That must be why he's here, to bring my sister back to me.
Apollo sighs, long and tired. "I'm afraid that the Council won't allow it. Roma has to train and learn, just as you do. Because the Greco-Roman must be both, in equal measure. Or something like that. If it were up to me, I'd put you back together and take you home." He's so sincere, so kind, so thoughtful. I'm so lucky to know him, to be his daughter. But….
"Then why are you here?" I'm disappointed I won't see my sister, but that is overridden but my curiosity. "My birthday isn't until summer. And Christmas was ages ago." It makes no sense for him to visit now.
"I know, but I wanted to see how you were doing. And of course, explain a few things." He plucks the paper, covered in my scribbles, from the cot. "This for example. I'm sorry my Gift caused you such pain, but it was a necessary evil."
"Your Gift? You sent me a present?" I never got anything, no box wrapped in gold, not even a card. Nothing came in the mail during Christmas. Nothing appeared miraculously at the end of my bed. I try and convey all of this without words, because I know I'll start babbling and Father hates babbling.
"This isn't a normal present. It's a power, one I rarely give anyone. But you are special to me, and you deserve it. I made you a Seer, an Oracle. This," He hands me the paper and awe struck, I let it rest in my cupped hands. "This is the first of your prophecies. There will be more, many many more. But you must never tell anyone what you see or hear or write. Promise me SunBurst, swear on the Styx. Or I'll have to take the Gift away."
"No! I swear!" I can't disappoint Apollo, not when he's been so kind and understanding.
Apollo has me recite a vow, makes me cover my heart, cross my eyes, wrinkle my nose and stick out my tongue. (The most serious promise an 8-year-old could make.) Then he smiles, just like he did when I made an especially hard shot with my bow. My vow was made, unbreakable. I was not to speak of my prophecies or my Gift or Apollo's visit, until the Second was healed and I met with the First. And then my prophecies would make the Circles whole.
It was my own little secret, my own prophecy. A puzzle for lazy days, or bored days or any day that lessons drug on too long. What were the Circles? Why was the Second broken, and how? Who was the First? The questions were all I could think about, that and the scraps of paper I scribbled on. I started pasting them into a journal I bought at the Camp store, making note of the date, and where I was when I wrote it. Eventually, I just carried the journal with me, and wrote in that whenever the itch took me.
Will, Lee and the rest forgot about my bleeding hand, my day in the Infirmary, the scrap of paper, and life went on. They ignored my journal, because it seemed like a pretty normal thing for a girl to have a diary. Once the Stolls tried to sneak it out of my trunk, but after I cursed them with Rhyme's Disease, they thought twice.
Years passed, and I trained and studied and learned and secretly wrote, though the prophecies became few and far between. I got my beads, strung them on my necklace with pride. I have the flaming trireme, from a mock-naval battle that went sideways during my first summer. There's a winged shoe on the second bead, for Luke's quest, the first in a decade. And silver arrow, for when the Hunters visited during my third year and beat us soundly at Capture the Flag. (Which is a tradition. Seriously. The world will probably end before the Hunters lose Capture the Flag.)
I watched over Roma, though I didn't understand most of what I saw. A blond boy falling off a siege tower, only to rise whooping seconds later, floating in midair. A stern Latina barking orders and looking regal in purple. A dark haired boy splattered in red and drinking from a goblet. More and more faces that Roma regarded like family. There was only one person she wasn't quite sure about. A scarecrow-y boy with straw hair and a very sharp knife. The word Augur floated in Roma's mind, but I didn't know what that meant.
Still I was glad to see her, strong and brash and wonderful. It helped with the loneliness. Soon though, I had more on my mind than prophecies and Roma.
The night of Percy's arrival, I wrote in my journal. But it was different this time, because I could see things. Symbols and colours and people. There was a trident, and waves and a boy in a dark blue chiton and a green peplos, wielding a glowing sword. Then the same boy in jeans and a t-shirt, with a pen of all things. Him, the Voice crooned. HE is part of this. He is one of the first. And the girl, of course. Of all people, Annabeth, floated by my eyes, dressed first in ancient clothes, grey and olive green, and then as I saw her just hours before, Camp shirt and shorts, her dagger in hand. Remember them, for they are a part of this. They are Yours.
Can you imagine my shock? Of course, things seem so much clearer in hindsight, because I now know exactly what that Voice meant, but back then… I was clueless. And the events of the next morning did not help at all.
The story of the boy, the unclaimed demigod, who defeated the Minotaur and saved his satyr from being eaten was rampant in the camp in the days before Percy woke up. People were antsy, everyone wanted to meet him. Some even went so far as to corner Grover and drown him in questions. He never said a word, because he is a good friend. I trailed some of the older kids as they traded theories, desperate for any word on the boy. Was he the one from my dream? What did he and Annabeth have a part of? Why did the Voice call them mine?
Then finally, the boy makes an appearance in the camp, walking with Grover at his side and a shoebox under his arm. He is immediately shuffled into Cabin 11, which makes some of the younger kids go: 'Nya-Nya! We got the cool guy and you don't!' I knew immediately who he was, but still the questions lingered, as they would for many years.
Eventually, Percy gets sent to the attic, and gets prophecy, then leaves with Annabeth and Grover. They travel west, to face the god who has turned, blah, blah, blah. You know this story already, so I won't waste your time. At camp, things got tense. Dark clouds circled all the time and thunder often shook the sky, but there was never any lightening, which made this even worse, waiting for the flash that would never come. Rain sprinkled off and on, which should have been impossible, but hey, if a God is pissed enough, anything can happen.
Chiron insisted we continue with our normally activities, and championed Percy as the saviour. The older campers muttered to themselves and shook their heads -they didn't think the trio would come back- but were cheerful around us kids. I kinda hated it. It made me feel small and untrustworthy. This was our problem too, we could help, but they had to give us the chance.
Anyway, Percy made it to the Underworld and back, and we made him that year's bead. There were a few designs to pick from though, including but not limited to: A toilet with a spray of water, a hellhound paw, a lightening bolt crossed with a trident, and a minotaur horn. Of course these were all over ridden for the simple trident-on-a-black-field bead you all know and love.
And just like you know all of that, you know how that summer ended.
I didn't know Luke very well, I mean, he was a Son of Hermes. Cabins don't mix much, unless it's for Capture the Flag. But everyone agreed, Luke would never, never do something like this. He would not steal Zeus's lightning bolt or Hades's helm. He would not summon a hellhound. He would not try to kill Percy with a pit scorpion. He would not abandon us for the Titans. He would not poison Thalia's Tree. He wouldn't kidnap Artemis and make her hold up the sky. He wouldn't do any of that, not ever.
But he did.
The summer of The Golden Fleece was the first time I'd ever been in battle, that most of us had ever been in battle. Sure we sparred, we played, and those who had lives outside camp fight monsters all the time, but not like this.
Monsters gathered in large groups, charging in whenever they wished. The guard rotation become a part of everyone's schedule, just another training exercise. We missed Chiron of course, and despised Tantalus, the new Activities Director. (Though I will admit, the Chariot Race was actually quite fun, until those killer dodos showed up.) He refused to send a quest, refused to call for aid, even though someone asked almost nightly. When Percy and Tyson arrived, we silently cheered. Surely HE could convince them to send a quest, we thought. And he did, well, kind of.
People were a bit surprised when Dionysus picked Clarisse, and not Percy. He'd saved us before, he was a hero. Clarisse was, well, she could be a bit of a bully sometimes, and had a mean streak a mile wide. But she was strong and smart and in her own way, cunning.
She left on a ship borrowed from her father, but left alone. Hours later, Percy, Tyson and Annabeth disappeared. Tantalus didn't want anyone to go after them, so they went and sailed all the way to the Sea of Monsters and rescued Grover and Clarisse from Polyphemus the Cyclops, stealing the Golden Fleece in the process.
At Camp, Tantalus grew even more sour, lashing out at anyone he thought was annoying, which was everyone. He even told Austin and I to stop making such a racket during Music Lessons. We promptly sang and played louder than before, which got us promptly suck on Kitchen Duty for a week. Other than his grouchy disposition and the lack of wise-old-centaurs, life around camp was basically the same.
Then the night came when a shining circle of mist and light appeared in front of Dionysus's table. Percy was there, and so was Luke, who had his back to us and was yelling about how he poisoned the Tree and made sure Hades picked Tantalus for parole and other terrible things. When Luke finally noticed us, he turned white. Dionysus simply waved a hand and Tantalus disappeared, making cheers rise from the Mess Hall.
A few days later, Clarisse arrived by cab to drape the Fleece on the Tree's lowest branches. Chiron showed up with his cousins and the rest of the heroes in tow only a few minutes later. It was very obvious what that year's bead would be.
It was stormy that night, which meant of course, I slept like a baby. I had no idea what a special night it was until the next morning when there was a dark haired girl at Table 1. Thalia Grace, Daughter of Zeus, was alive. And fifteen years old.
That winter was busy. Firstly, I had school work. As far as the state was concerned, I and the rest of the kids who stayed full time attended a private school that specialized in learning disabilities. I had just started middle school, which meant an increase in homework. Yay me. And Christmas was coming up, so Cabin 7 was working on our Holiday Recital. I had a piano piece to memorize, and four chorus songs and I was working on learning violin. I was al- Oh, you probably want to know about the quest, huh? My bad.
It was the first week of December when Grover sent in his report. Two demigods in Manie, strong. Siblings from what he could see. This merited the best: Annabeth, Thalia and Percy were driven up by Mrs. Jackson to retrieve the pair. And of course, things went sideways.
Annabeth was missing, the Hunters were at Camp, the Sun Chariot had crashed into the Lake (and Dad left without saying hello or goodbye) and there were two new demigods to train. Well, one new demigod. Bianca had chosen to become a Hunter, leaving her brother Nico to train with the Campers. The traditional Capture the Flag game was also a disaster, seeing as the Oracle decided she wanted to go for a stroll.
Four went on the quest, followed by Percy, making five, just as the prophecy said. From there it was waiting and hoping. Would they find Annabeth and Artemis? Would Thalia make a choice on her 16th birthday, as the Great Prophecy said she would? I was too young to realize how close we came to destruction.
I made a friend that winter. Nico di Angelo. He was a sweet boy, sincere, and he had so many questions. But I felt connected to him somehow, even without the stupid vision.
My father's Gift struck again, on December 15th. This time, it was Nico who stood in black and silver, wielding a dark sword, sheathed in shadow. The Voice was as cryptic as always. He is Yours too, even more than the others, for he is the Mirror. Just once, it would have been nice to have a straight answer.
I lost a friend that winter. Because when Percy and Annabeth came back, without Thalia, without Zoe, without Bianca, Nico lost himself. He plunged into those shadows and didn't look back. I guessed then who he was, as Percy and Annabeth did. Nico was a Son of Hades. A son of Death and Dark.
Life had to go on. Percy and Annabeth returned with news of Luke, and his plan to raise Kronos from Tartarus. It was final then.
We were at War.