REWRITTEN!
Beta: trustingHim17
Chapter 5
"Setting things straight and getting answers!"
Screams and heated words could be heard throughout the hospital room. Nurses bustled around, giving reassuring words to the woman giving birth, and the doctor sat quietly by the woman's legs.
Three old women, who no one seemed to notice, took out a thin string and a pair of scissors. They looked at the birthing woman for a moment, looking and considering, but then turned back to the string and cut it.
The woman gave one final push, though no sound reached her ears. She panted, tired from the long labor, and lifted her head to look down worriedly at the doctor. "Is she-" the woman took in a large gulp of air. "is she okay?"
The three old women cut the string again, but just like the time before, the string passed harmlessly in between the shears. They tried again, and again, but the string never cut, and so, they cursed in a langue so ancient it almost seemed like magic.
One word was repeated, again and again: Chaos.
"Yes," the doctor said, as the nurses cleaned and wrapped the baby girl in a blanket. "She will be fine."
As the baby laid in the woman's arms, she opened her eyes to look at her mother but squirmed almost immediately at the bright lighting. The woman chuckled fondly.
"We'll leave you two alone for now," one of the nurses said. "just call if you need anything."
The doctor and nurses walked out of the room, damping the light a little, and the woman finally had some alone time with her newly born daughter. The baby girl opened her eyes yet again, this time able to keep them open, and looked at her mother with curiosity.
The woman hugged the girl closer to her. "You have your father's eyes, you know…" the newly turned mother trailed off, as she looked closer at her daughter's eyes.
Particular eyes really, if she had to be honest. While at first glance, the baby's eyes appeared so dark they could have been mistaken for black holes, but then when the older of the two looked closer, she could see a thin silver ring around the pupils. The baby gurgled, smiling a toothless smile, and reached for the pretty woman's hair with her chubby fingers. The woman laughed.
The three old women took forth a second string and put the shears to it, and easily cut it in half.
The woman, who was still smiling down at her daughter, was connected to a heart monitor. At first, it slowly started to speed down and she closed her eyes, though she didn't want to go. Then, the monitor stopped all together and an eerie beep continued in the silence, as the women's arms slackened their hold on her daughter. The doctor and nurses suddenly burst through the doors, and for the first time, the baby started to cry.
. . .
Rox woke with a start, the baby's cry echoing eerily in her mind, and sat up straight in her bed. A cloak of darkness surrounded the girl, and instinctively she calmed down. Unlike normal kids her age or younger, Rox wasn't afraid of the dark – rather, it comforted her.
She lay back in the bed, a frown on her face as she stared into the dark.
She had the feeling she knew those three old women at the fruit stand. But what was with that dream? The little baby girl, she had the same eyes as herself…
Rox felt cold dread fill her body.
It was her. The baby was her. The old women- the Fates had tried to cut her string…
"I was never meant to be alive…" She whispered to herself.
Rox wasn't completely sure how to precede such information (who did?), so she did the next best thing she could think of: stuff it in the back of her mind for future use. If she ever met the Fates again, they would have a Hades of a time explaining themselves to her.
She pulled the blanket tighter around her small frame, pushing stands of black ringlets behind her ear, and looked around. As her eyes quickly adjusted to the lack of light, she noticed she wasn't in her room at the orphanage. This room wasn't even remotely like her own space with its darker colors and comfortable beanbags, which were all put in the same corner. The little moonlight that filtered in through the window bounced of off the walls, and Rox was sure that if it'd been day she would've winced from all the white. There was a silhouette of a man, who looked like he was asleep, sitting in a chair in the corner.
Rox rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and tossed her legs over the bed as silently as she could. She pushed the warm blanket off herself and was immediately met with cold air. She shivered, rubbing her arms to get some warmth back, and contemplated burrito'ing herself in the blanket. Her hands fell onto her lap and she rolled her shoulders, wincing slightly when she felt an ache run through her back. She looked down and ran a thumb over the skull ring - the grin was gone. A smug of dirt was on her beloved ring and Rox rubbed it away, putting slight pressure on the skull.
Then the most curious thing happened - it clicked.
At first, nothing happened and Rox put it down to her just being tired, but then the ring seemed to transform. It became longer and longer, curving in, then out, and a handle formed in her hand.
The sword was blacker than anything Rox had ever seem - if nightmares had a color, it would be this -, and was about three feet long. The one-edged sword was concave on the lower part of the blade, but convex on the top. The hilt was formed like a hook and under the black leather, she could see it was stylized to look like a skeleton, which was made of a whitish silver. At the end of the hilt was the head – a grinning skull with onyx eyes.
The sword felt so right in her hands, like someone made it for her and no one else.
Rox knew what kind of sword it was – a falcata. It was an ancient Greek sword very similar to the kopis. (So she had a bit of a fixation with weapons - what was wrong with that?)
But how did she turn it back? Rox ran her thumb over the skull and the clicking sound came again. In under a second, the sword had transformed back into a ring. She turned it in her hands, the word Ethos standing out to her along with the skull. She slipped it back on.
Rox let her eyes land on the window.
Weighing the possibilities in her mind, she stood on wobbling legs and bare feet touched the cold wooden floor. She used the bed to steady herself. In a slightly forced motion, Rox moved over to the window, pushed it open and crawled out, though not without noticing the one amused wink sent her way.
Now standing outside, still barefooted, Rox felt the icy chill of the night.
This wasn't really that rare, Rox usually went outside in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep, though she'd be extremely tired and maybe a bit cranky the following morning. The grass was softer than what Rox had thought at first, and the air defiantly fresher than the one in the city. Dew clung to the small green blades and she spread her toes, wiggling them slightly. She moved towards the hill that had a big Christmas-ish pine tree, not knowing why she did.
A meadow spread across fresh green hills in the distance. The slight breeze smelled of dew and kept her gaze at the meadow. There were groves of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries was spread out under the starry night sky. Rolling hills surrounded the valley and Rox could easily see over it, as she was standing on the tallest.
She sat down with her back against the hard bark, overlooking the camp.
Rox must've been on the north shore of Long Island, because on one side of the big farmhouse (the same house she came from), the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance. The farmhouse was about four stories tall, sky blue with white trim, with a brass eagle weather vane on top that would most likely glitter in the sun.
The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture: an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena. But it couldn't have been true, because they all looked like they were just built, their white marble columns glowing slightly from the moonlight.
Rox's eyelids dropped slightly, as her breathing became heavy and slow. Her eyes finally closed and the tree swayed in the wind, the branches surrounding the girl as best they could.
. . .
The second time Rox awoke, someone was shaking her, calling her name. "Roxanna." said the voice. "Wake up, or you'll end up being the victim of one of the Stoll brothers' pranks." Rox could practically hear the voice smirking.
She opened her eyes but immediately held a hand up to block out the sharp light, which glared sharply down at her. Her eyes watered slightly and she let out a sleepy groan, as she stretched her arms one at a time along with her back until it popped nicely - the ache was gone. She sighed in satisfaction, leaning back against the tree.
"I can't believe you fell asleep against a tree." Daimon said, amusement evident in his voice.
Rox's eyes slowly adjusted to the light, and she blinked her eyes a couple of times before she let her hand fall. He was smirking at her. She gave him a light glare as she stood up, mumbling with a slight blush of embarrassment, "I was tired."
"You should be," a glint of worry entered his eyes. "it's not everyone who can take a direct hit from Pasiphaë's son and live to see another day."
But Rox just brushed it off. "You worry too much, I can perfectly take care of myself."
Daimon crossed his arms, shrugging. "If you say so. But you should probably go down to the Big House before anyone starts to go into a panic."
"Of course, of course," Rox yawned, stretching a bit more. "I'm sure no one's gonna get their panties in a twist."
They walked down the hill, toward the Big House, which turned out to be the farmhouse Rox had snuck out of. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in kill-me-orange T-shirts, with the words CAMP HALF-BLOOD on it, were chasing each other around a cluster of weird cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horse with wings down a wooded trail.
"Pegasi." Rox whispered, without realizing.
Daimon hummed in agreement, walking besides her.
As they got closer, Rox saw two men sitting at the end of the porch, which wrapped around the farmhouse. One of them was Mr. Brunner, which didn't surprise Rox. The other looked like an adult version of a cherub - middle-aged -, with a red nose, big watery eyes and curly hair so black it seemed almost purple. He clutched a Diet Coke in one hand as if his life depended on it.
He wore a tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt, and Rox got a glimpse of purple running shoes, though she got the feeling that he'd never run even once in his life.
The two were playing a card game when Rox saw a blond-haired boy run out of the farmhouse with a panicked look, his arms waving rather comically about. He shouted, "She's gone! She isn't lying in her bed anymore!" The boy looked to be about 14, with sky blue eyes and hair that could've either been light brown or dirty blonde. He, like every other kid, was wearing the kill-me-orange T-shirt.
"Argus was watching over her the whole time." Mr. Brunner frowned. "You must have looked in the wrong room."
"No! I was in the right room! Argus was there, too!"
"Would you quiet down?" the cherub said annoyed. "She's right there." He waved a hand in Rox's direction, like he was waving smoke away, who was standing on the stairs to the porch. She smiled amusedly.
Mr. Brunner and the blond turned to look at her simultaneously, and Rox couldn't help but smirk a little at the scene. She gave a halfhearted waved once.
"You haven't even been here a full three days and you're already causing trouble." The cherub sighed loudly, as if he had the burden of the sky on his shoulders.
"I was just out for a little… walk." Rox said.
"But if you woke Argus would have told me." Mr. Brunner said, slightly frowning and with lips pursed.
Rox smirked, a glint in her eyes that told of nothing good, and shrugged nonchanlantly. "Does it matter? I didn't suffer from a stroke or something, so everything's fine."
Mr. Brunner looked at her with that all-knowing gaze, and Rox stared stubbornly back. He sighed. "So be it." a kind smile found its way onto his features. "Now come sit, we have a lot to talk about."
Rox and Daimon both took a seat, Rox besides the cherub and the boy opposite from her. She looked around at the people seated at the table. They all looked rather... Well, like a bomb was about to go off and they had to defuse it before that happened. The cherub was the only one who at least looked nonchalant about it.
"I'm afraid Mr. Brunner was a pseudonym," the former Mr. Brunner said carefully. "Chiron is my real name."
So she had seen a horse's form after eavesdropping on Grover and Mr. Bru- Chiron.
"I thought names had power." She commented.
"Ah, well, yes," Chiron began, "they do, but that's mostly with some of the more powerful monsters and gods... and titans." He added lightly.
"Alright," she shrugged. "so why am I here?"
Chiron smiled, and Rox almost thought she saw a smirk, but that couldn't be possible - Chiron didn't smirk. "Ah, but that is what we all want answered. Why am I here? What purpose do I have? What am I worth? Where did I come from? It is one of many questions about life."
"Not what I meant, and you know it." Rox huffed, a bit frustrated.
"Then you must learn to ask the right questions, child."
"A long time ago, Grover gave me a card with an address on it. Camp Half-Wit, or something."
Daimon sighed. "Half-Blood."
"S'what I said." Rox waved him off and continued, "Half-blood is another name for demigod, so is this a camp for the children of the Greek gods?"
Chiron nodded, confirming Rox's guess. "As you know, the gods had children with mortal lovers in the ancient times,"
Rox hummed lightly. "Mmhmm, most of their problems seemed to start with Zeus not being able to keep it in his pants."
Lightning rumbled in the distance and the two boys looked fairly apprehensively at the blue sky.
The cherub snorted. "By Rhea, I'm starting to like this girl more and more."
"Mr. D,"Chiron said warningly, "insulting your father now is not going to help your currant position."
Mr. D - the cherub - leaned back in his seat, Diet Coke held to his lips as he grumbled about how unfair it all was.
"You're taking this fairly easy." The blond boy stated.
"That kind of happens when you get attacked for the second time." Rox deadpanned, as Chiron looked at her knowingly. "So, who's Percy's father? And yours, Akilles?"
Daimon's lips quirked. "Son of Thanatos, the god of death."
The blond boy's shiver almost went unnoticed, but Rox caught it. He suddenly looked at her as if he just remembered something, and said smiling, "Oh, right, my name is Lee Fletcher, son of Apollo."
Rox gave a wave. "Roxanna Fleur."
"If you ever get injured again, just come to me, I'll help fix you right up." Lee gave a mega-watt smile and Rox vaguely wondered if it could replace the sun. Just for a short while, but still.
"I'll remember that." She said, and smiled slightly in return. She turned back to Chiron. "And Percy? Sir?"
"We still don't know who Percy's father is," he said nonchalantly.
"But you have an idea." It was a statement, not a question, and Rox watched as Chiron did his infamous change of subject.
"Lee, could you go tell the Hermes cabin to expect a new cabinmate? And get the things ready for Roxanna?" he asked Lee.
"Of course, Chiron." And then Lee ran off to the Hermes cabin.
"So how come you don't know exactly who Percy's father is, when you do with Akilles?" She changed her approach.
"Because he hasn't been claimed yet, he's undetermined. If he, at least, was unclaimed than we'd know who his father is, but said father won't have claimed Percy as his own." Chiron said.
"Oh." So Chiron was afraid of saying who Percy's father was, in hopes that he may be wrong. But why?
"Well, Roxanna," he said, quickly changing the dreadful topic. "you distracted the Minotaur, and saved Percy from a rather nasty injury, and for that you've gotten this special little gift."
He said it like she had won the lottery or some great honor. Maybe it was, but Rox couldn't really see the big thing about getting hit by a meaty hand and surviving - perhaps she was just being pessimistic.
Chiron pointed to a shoebox, but Rox couldn't really see what was so special about it and nearly gave him an 'are you stupid?' look, when he said, "A spoil of war. Go on, open it."
Rox did as told. Inside was a thick brass ring - at least the size of her hand - completely clean. The image of the blood and flash dangling from it flashed into her head as she was about to take it.
Chiron, seeing her hesitate, said, "It's been washed multiple times, with lava," he added when Rox still didn't touch it.
"It's the nose ring I ripped off." Rox stated, now holding the heavy ring in her hand.
"Yes, yes. Hurray and all that." Mr. D played a card. "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, the best camp there is for brats. Now don't go ruin anything... And don't touch my wine cabinet!"
"I'm twelve." Rox said drily. "What do you expect me to do? Use them as fuel for a bonfire?"
Mr. D grumbled sourly to himself and Daimon leaned over to her. "That has actually happened."
"What? Really?" Rox blinked at first but then her face split into a grin. "Awesome!"
Chiron smiled amusedly at her. "Don't worry about Mr. D, he's just a bit sour about his… grounding."
Mr. D snorted, and mumbled, "Grounding? More like punishment. 'Be a better influence,'" He mimicked mockingly. "'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' I can't even drink wine anymore, it just turns into water! And it was such a good year, too! Absolutely unfair." Mr. D kept mumbling to himself.
"Offended his father a while back," Chiron told Rox after seeing her confused expression. "took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits."
"Say," Rox said, loud enough to gain Mr. D's attention. "are you the wine god?"
"Finally!" He exclaimed. "A little hero who has manners. See there's a first."
"I'm taking that as a complement."
"Better manners than the other, Perry, Peter, whatever." Mr. D turned watery eyes to Rox. "You'd be better off if you kept it that way, Roxanna Fleur, it'd be a shame to lose such a well mannered heroine like yourself."
"I'll be doing what I've always been doing. I'm not going to change just because someone said so." Rox said with defiance.
"What'd ya know? She's feisty, too." Mr. D said, somewhat amused. "Just like her dad… but then again, it runs in the family." He added with a shrug.
Rox was shocked to say the least, and far as she could see, so was Chiron and Daimon. How'd he found out? She hadn't told anyone.
She bit her lower lip, pushing a strand of curly hair behind her ear.
"You know who her father is, Mr. D?" Chiron asked.
"I don't." He said curtly. "But I've been in enough family spats to know what their auras feel like. So I have an idea of who it is, though I'm pretty sure she knows herself." He looked directly at Rox the whole time.
"Is that true, Roxanna?" Chiron spoke calmly.
Rox tensed, and besides her she felt Daimon slightly stiffen, though she didn't know why. He wasn't the one in possible future trouble.
Her father had never been on such good terms with the others, so would they throw her out? Then again, if that was true, wouldn't Mr. D have already done so, or something? Just from the simple possibility that she was a child of Hades?
Oh confound it all.
Rox nodded. "I do, but I won't tell. The only way for you to find out is if he claims me as his daughter."
Chiron looked at her with calculating eyes and silence stretched between them all. He nodded. "If you want it so."
"I believe I win." Mr. D said, having turned back to the card game that took place once upon a time.
"Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron said. He set down his cards, which were apparently good (Rox hadn't a clue to what they were playing) because Mr. D cursed with quite the color in Ancient Greek. Chiron tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me."
Mr. D sighed heavily and loudly, as if he was used to being beaten by the centaur, and got up. "I think I'll try and find some earplugs before the horrid sing-along tonight." Mr. D turned to Rox. "Cabin eleven, Roxanna Fleur. And if you're anything like your father, then you're gonna be one entertaining brat. And do try to remember not to go near my wine cabinet."
He swept into the farmhouse.
Chiron chuckled, clearly amused. "I think old Dionysus finds you interesting."
"Interesting?" Rox said, voice rising an octave or two. "Yeah, because that turned out real well for everyone before me. You know, I don't fancy being a tree."
All she got in response was a cough and a clearing of a throat.
"Thanks."
Rox sighed and changed the subject.
"Where are Percy and Grover?" She asked.
"I would think Grover is with the other satyrs. Percy woke up just a day before you and is with the Hermes cabin now, training."
"Good," Rox released a sigh of relief. "they're both okay."
"Ah!" Chiron looked like he just remembered something very important. "We seemed to skip right on over the whole explanation."
Rox frowned. "Ummm, what do you mean, Chiron?"
"You know that the Greek god are alive and well, but did you know that they live here? How they came here in the first place?"
"I don't think so." That was the wrong thing to say. Rox got a long winded explanation about how the gods moved with the heart of the West - they were practically tied to it; Olympus hovered over the Empire State Building or something; the gods changed their names but were technically still the same; blah, blah, blah.
To be honest, Rox just kind of tuned it out, nodding and hmm'ing the right places so it seemed like she was paying attention.
She was so tired, and a dull ache had returned to her back.
Daimon poked her cheek. "Roxanna?"
"When is it lights out?" She asked blearily.
Chiron smiled. He shifted his weight as if he was going to get up out of his wheelchair. "You have not fully recovered yet, I see." he mused. "But we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven, before it get's too dark."
Then Chiron rose from his wheelchair in a odd fashion. His blanket fell away from his legs, but the legs didn't move. His waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. Rox saw something white and fury, and Chiron kept rising out of the chair, taller than any man. It was the front of an animal - a horse -, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair wasn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels.
A leg came out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached to it.
"Well that's a neat trick." Rox said, still staring at the huge and beautiful white horse – or, well, centaur – that sprung out off the wheelchair. Where the horse's neck normally should've been, the upper body of Chiron was attached, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.
"What a relief," Chiron said. "My fetlocks always seem to fall asleep when I use that dreadful chair. Now, come, Roxanna. Let's meet some of the other campers. Daimon can tag along, of course."
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