11th June 2005,
Half-Blood Hill,
Long Island,
New York.
"Percy's the son of who?!" Emile said incredulously, tidying up the insignificant portion of the floor that his sleeping-bag was slung alongside that of his fellow cabin-mates. The young man, having feigned an injury, hurriedly made his way back to the cabin whilst everyone was basking in victory, to reflect on his own 'claiming', hidden as it was from everyone else by the dark panoply of the forest.
Luke, who had just finished tidying his own patch, nodded his head before saying, "It happened near the creek where Percy was positioned, he was nearly killed by a hellhound a few moments before were it not for Chiron."
"I was wondering why he wasn't here when I woke up."
"Yeah, Chiron brought him over to Cabin Three earlier."
"So he was 'Big Three' material huh?" Emile said rhetorically with a soft chuckle.
"It seems so," Luke responded, "But I didn't see you there, as crazy as the whole situation would have been. Where were you?"
"I…I ran off to another area of the forest…to make sure there weren't any more monster incursions!" Emile lied, trying not to meet Luke's gaze.
Luke looked across at his the young man, his eyebrows perking upward as though he were trying to pick apart Emile's entire scenario from the night before. With whatever conclusion he may have gleaned, Luke didn't seem inclined to interrogate his younger colleague any further. Gesturing that they should form up with the rest of the cabin, Emile went alongside the cabin counsellor as the half-bloods all emerged from their quarters, including the solitary figure of Percy, whose confirmed parentage caused gossiping to emerge as campers made their way to the pavilion.
I should probably speak to Chiron about what happened last night, Emile thought to himself, remembering the striking symbol that formed above his head – what seemed to be a star with sixteen rays over a dark-blue banner. Another matter that he needed to discuss was the 'morale boost' as he had called it, that occurred during the fighting last night. Not only did it affect him at a crucial juncture in the fight, but its effects seemed to spread to his teammates on that occasion. The reality of getting claimed hit the young man harder than he would it would have.
As they made their up the familiar marble steps, Emile caught the paraplegic figure of Chiron, his full form concealed by the magical wheelchair contraption, at the table of Dionysius, alongside the eponymous god himself as well as his two sons, the twins Castor and Pollux. Informing Luke of his need to speak with Chiron, with the former agreeing, the curly, brown-haired youth made his way over to the table where the camp directors were eating their own morning meals somewhat nervously. Saying "hello!" to the twins, promptly receiving a "hi!" back before they delved into their morsels; Emile turned to the god of wine, "Hello Mr. Dionysius, sir."
"Mr. D shall suffice Emmit Maragh," the demigod-turned-god responded lazily, not bothering to turn his attention from the goblet filled with Diet Coke no doubt. Bowing his head and stating that he would not do so again, the young man turned to the legendary trainer of heroes.
"Um…C-Chiron I was wondering would I…would I be able to talk to you for a moment?" Emile asked tentatively.
The centaur seemed only slightly perturbed by his student's request, turning his wheelchair to the anxious figure before him. "Of course Emile, what is it you wish to discuss? Does it pertain to the events of yesterday evening?"
"In a manner of speaking," the young man replied, "But it doesn't have to do with the hellhound incident."
"I see," Chiron replied, a more pensive look beginning to settle on the preceptor's face, "Does this have to do with your role in the Capture the Flag event last night?"
"How did you-?"
"I was informed by Charles," the centaur revealed, his head nodding in the direction of the Hephaestus table, where the eponymous counsellor was going about his meal. "He informed me of a rather curious moment during a skirmish between your respective regiments near the boundary line."
Before Emile could respond, his educator raised an open hand to hush the young man, and it had its intended effect. "I feel it would be best if we discussed this matter in a more, enclosed setting, shall we say? Follow me."
Wheeling away from the table, the pair made their way to the steps before the device camouflaging Chiron's true form was shed, revealing the lower half of his body to be a white stallion. The transformation caused a few heads to turn but even these were slowly whisked away by the food at their mercy. Chiron encouraged Emile to get on top, with the youth doing so before they bolted towards the Big House. Even though it wasn't too far a distance away, Emile was amazed at the speed at which centaurs travelled.
The two entered into Chiron's office, his desk fluttered with a variety of different paper work Emile noted that to deal with not only the import of weapons and armour but also regards as to the production and selling of the strawberries that are grown on camp grounds, due in no small part to the powers of Dionysius and his sons. Various items such as the infamous boom-box that aired ear-wrenching Italian music, the record-player and the full-screen video, where Emile remembered watching the induction video alongside a few other campers who were still gobsmacked about the whole half-human, half-god idea.
"I think it would be most fruitful," Chiron said, wheeling himself around the other side of the desk before facing the youth, "If you would describe what occurred last night, from your own perspective, seeing as how an alternative perspective has been provided to me."
"O-Of course sir," Emile said, his mind darting back to the scenes from the night before.
"We were being hemmed in on all sides, not to mention the frontal assault that the red team pulled off," the young man recalled, trying to illustrate the formation and tactics the blue team had employed much to Chiron's bemusement, "And then, all of a sudden, I…or rather the whole team, got this sudden boost, though it didn't feel physical to me."
An inquisitive 'hm…' from Chiron felt to Emile as though he should continue.
"It almost felt, felt like it had to with mora-!"
"Morale."
The words were quite literally taken out of the camper's mouth.
"How did you know?" the young man questioned.
"Most half-bloods, as a result of their divine heritage, manifest different abilities depending on who their parent is."
Emile concurred, with a slight nod.
"Take for instance Percy, who a few days though unbeknownst to you at the time, was able to manipulate water to perform a number of different actions, such as dousing fellow campers with a great deal of force, as the incident with Clarisse was conveyed to me."
"So you're saying that what happened with me," Emile said, following on with the logic of Chiron's example, "Was an example of that ability being used?"
"It would seem so, but not one that I have seen in a long time."
This statement caused some consternation to appear on Emile's face.
"What do you mean?" the young man inquired.
"The ability that you utilised in the course of the battle yesterday bears a remarkable resemblance to an ability attributed to Ares and likewise his children, divine or demigod. Have you ever noticed, unfortunate as it may be, why some of your fellow campers always seem to engage in fights with Clarisse, how they seem to be so easily cajoled into combat despite being of the more mild variety?"
"I always thought it was just Clarisse being a pain in the ass."
Chiron chuckled as his student's honesty.
"Though you may feel as such, it has its roots in a power called odikinesis, which makes the user able to manipulate the emotions of those whom they're trying to affect, as long as they relate to war or even some of its more tame comparables, such as fighting for example. It is one of the reasons why tactical manoeuvres are so very difficult to perform in Capture the Flag, especially if finds themselves engaged against the children of Ares."
"But that doesn't sound like anything that happened to me."
"No it does not," Chiron responded, "The simple fact being that your ability, though similar to odikinesis, differs in a quite a drastic aspect. If the negative emotions brought through by odikinetics were done to service a negative aim, what would you did last night for your teammates was to boost their morale, that in itself being a positive aim."
"So neither the children of Ares or Athena have this ability, despite being gods of war to a greater and lesser extent?" Emile wondered.
"You are correct, and neither the progeny of Ares – Enyo, Deimos and Phobos – possess this ability."
"Then who is my father?"
"Tell me," Chiron replied evasively, which caused his young student minor annoyance, "At the moment of your claiming, what symbol hovered above your head?"
"A star," Emile said in response, "One with sixteen rays, on a…a navy, no, on a blue banner."
Chiron began to chuckle, though it didn't seem to Emile as though there was a hint of levity about the erstwhile deep laughter. The centaur then turned to the young man sitting opposite him with steely, dead-serious eyes which caused a comical 'GULP!' from his student.
"You, Emile, are the son of Alexander the Great."
The words hung in the ears of the young man. Son of the most famous general in history?! the young man thought to himself rather frantically, trying to piece all the various clues together from his childhood. The one thing that stuck out, was a disagreement that 'Alexander' always had with his mother, namely that warfare from antiquity was worthy of study alongside that of early-modern/modern warfare. Emile realised that he too, would be rather annoyed if someone completely disregarded a person's achievements simply due to the era of time that it took place in. Still, to find out you're the son of one of the infamous men, apparently god now, in history was bound to cause a shock in anyone, especially if you would have considered his raving on about being a god, that went to such a point that his commanders had to encourage to wear a helmet into battle.
Still, all the annoyance, the anger, the feeling of not being loved seemed to wash away in that instance.
It's nice to know who you are…father, Emile thought to himself, a soft smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"To add even more credence to that declaration," Chiron said, breaking Emile out of the reverie the news had induced, "Charles had informed me that upon the moment of this shall we call it, 'morale burst', your eyes had flickered into two different colours, one eye blue, whilst the other remained the same brown."
Emile was surprised at the revelation, but it made sense as to why Beckendorf, who was usually quite the stoic character, had seemed somewhat rattled; though he felt that he heard from someone before that Alexander the Great had heterochromia iridium, which in the young man's mind only seemed to confirm physically, the unique personage that was Alexander the Great. However, a more pertinent question gnawed at the mind of Emile, being as he was to being surrounded by person's who had half-siblings all around them.
"Do you think," Emile spoke up, a degree of hopefulness entering the youth's voice, "…that I might have any siblings out there?"
The question caused Chiron to ponder for a moment, closing his eyes in thought whilst an angled forearm cupped his chin to complete the philosophical aesthetic. The centaur looked as though he was scouring through the past three millennia up until the present day, to find persons that would have brought confirmation on the young man's question.
"I'm afraid not," Chiron said, dashing the young man's fledgling hopes, "Since the last time the Macedonian fathered a child, would have been Napoleon Bonaparte."
If Emile's jaw had not dropped all the way to the floor at this point, it was certainly on its way and would soon be descending into the Underworld should any more revelations be brought to his attention.
"S-s-so Napoleon is…was my half-brother," Emile muttered, saddened that his only sibling pre-deceased him by nearly two centuries.
Before the young man could speak again, Chiron rolled his way out from behind the desk towards the direction of the door leading out to the porch, saying, "I will inform you further of your parentage at a later time Emile, for now however, I must be on my way to oversee archery lessons. As for the present moment, you have more than enough to mull over. Nonetheless, try not to let this distract you from giving a full effort as regards to your activities for the day."
With that instruction, Chiron's form shimmered once again to the familiar human-horse hybrid before bolting off to the archery field, his person seeming to flicker, to oversee the bungling efforts of those whose parent's name doesn't begin with 'a' and 'pollo'. As Emile exited the office, stepping out onto the rickety, wooden porch where informal discussions often took place amongst the campers and the camp activity directors, gazing out at the sky. Son of Alexander the Great…the young man thought to himself before jolting off to his own activities with a noticeable leap in his step.
…
The day continued to be an eventful one for Emile, despite the revelatory news that had been broken by Chiron earlier in the day. As the day progressed, it came to the attention of all the campers that Chiron offered a quest to the new camper Percy, the recently-claimed son of Poseidon, alongside Annabeth as well as Grover, the satyr that brought Percy to the camp on the night they were attacked by the Minotaur. Campers were well aware that the Master Bolt, Zeus' symbol of power, was stolen, prompting something of a family squabble with Poseidon, and Percy's emergence as the latter's son didn't exactly help to tone down the situation. The poor guy hasn't been here a week and he's being shuffled off to prevent a war, the young man thought to himself as the trio were escorted from Camp Half-Blood that would hopefully take them to the other side of the country where their quest lay.
As everyone settled down for dinner, Emile was able to get a seat before any of his cabin-mates, such was the vivacity that he was feeling. As the space soon became rather compact, as it did every night, the familiar figure of Luke stepped into the informally-reserved seat usually left open for him, and plopped himself down next to Emile.
"You seem to be doing a bit better," the scarred youth commented, slurping from his goblet as though he were parched for the first time, "Our sparring session was good but you don't take the initiative when an opening has been made."
"Can you blame me?" Emile replied, devouring the well-done steak he had asked for, "If I were to try, you'd probably land on me my ass the moment I'd go for it."
"There's a good chance of that happening too."
"Let's call if a certain chance."
The conversations around the various clothed-draped tables eventually turned to the subject of Percy, Annabeth and Grover embarking on their quest earlier in the day. Luke seemed uncharacteristically disinterested in the murmurings of his half-siblings, though Emile put it down to him being bombarded with questions all day on the matter, seeing as one half-blood mentioned the fact that Luke had gifted the son of Poseidon a pair of winged shoes, an item invariably associated with Hermes and likewise given to his children as a symbol of their father. As the hubbub continued, Luke turned to his younger cabin-mate, an inquisitive smirk on his face, wrinkling the pale scar running down the side of his face.
"So," he begun, wiping away the remaining crumbs on his face, "What were you and Chiron discussing earlier today?"
For some reason, the question took Emile by surprise, even though he'd seen occasions where campers were whisked away by Chiron for disciplinary matters, usually pertaining to a breaching of the rules during Capture the Flag.
"I…" Emile begun to respond, "I was claimed last night…during Capture the Flag."
The counsellor eyes widened at his younger colleagues statement.
"So the vision you had…" he recalled from their conversation a few days ago, "It was really was a precursor."
"I don't know if it was, strictly speaking," Emile argued, the young man's index finger and thumb clasping his chin in deduction, "It felt more like, like what would if I felt the way he was talking about."
"So you because you felt ambition - wasn't that what you said it was? - you were claimed automatically?"
"That's what happened."
"I don't think I've ever heard of someone being claimed due to the action or thoughts of a person being claimed. Usually it's spontaneous, or if you've seen from Percy's case, when their parent is in need of some assistance."
"He needs to find the Master Bolt before the summer solstice right?"
"Yeah."
"So what happens if he doesn't? Will war break out?"
Luke paused for a moment, the cheer receding from his face whilst a solemn demeanour took over.
"That seems to be the most likely outcome," Luke said, running a head through his sandy-blond hair, "And when they do, they'll no doubt bring us into the equation, as though we were little more than extensions of themselves."
Emile dwelt on what Luke had said for a moment. A war between the gods…it would destroy everything¸ he thought to himself. The young man hoped that the westward-bound trio would succeed in their quest, if the only reason that they might prevent every half-blood from killing each other. The thought of conflict naturally brought about a wonder for his father, to which side would the ancient king of Macedon pledge his allegiance, if he felt compelled to join the conflict at all. But did he have a choice? Would Zeus or Poseidon see neutral gods as being that, undecided, or as potential enemies? Even though Emile didn't feel close to his father, despite his being claimed the night before, at least he had to thank him for not being used as a tool.
"So," Luke said nudgingly, "Who's your father?"
"Alexander," Emile replied with the slightest hint of pride, "Alexander the Great."
Luke didn't seem all that surprised, thought it seemed to be more down to the fact that Emile felt himself special, that his only half-sibling was dead for more than two hundred years. As the tables emptied to offer the evening sacrifices to the gods, Emile unfolded his grip on the few morsels that he had clenched within his fist. In honour of Alexander, Emile thought to himself, eyes closed as he let the scraps of food descend into the hearth below. The scent wafted through the air, filling the young man's mind with memories of going to the cinema with his mother.
The rest of the evening passed quickly, the singalong with the Apollo feeling more enjoyable to the young man, and yet, his mind turned to those within the Hermes cabin who hadn't been claimed. Was it right for him to be so happy when some people at the camp have gone years without the gods taking notice? In a sense, it wasn't so much that Alexander had acknowledged him, but that Emile had desired glory in battle that triggered the result. There was such an entanglement of emotions when it comes to the gods, something Emile contemplated as he made his way back to the cabin. At one moment, you could feel such love and respect for them and the next, when you contemplate what they could do by their capriciousness and bickering, one could only feel powerless.
As his own corner of the room, Emile noticed a letter with the same symbol that he saw form above his head the night before – the Vergina Star. There was a slight impression against the blue envelope Emile noticed and traced his hand over the outline deftly, feeling as though it were a feather packed within. Opening the letter, the youth's hand reached in and retrieved the item, which happened to be a feather, an eagle's feather if he had to be precise.
Emile smirked.
"Thanks for the present…father," the young man muttered as he set himself up for bed.
Author's note: Hello everyone, and I'd like to thank ye if you've spent a portion of your time reading this and I hope you enjoyed it. With this chapter, I'm very much thinking along the lines that if wasn't said to the contrary to the books, I could go along with it. As for the deification of Alexander the Great, he was featured within the Hellenic pantheon quite heavily, as his corpse was interred within Alexandria as a means to legitimise the rule of Ptolemy and his descendants when they took control of Egypt.
As regards to Alexander's children, Napoleon as it was mentioned, I will expand upon that in future chapters as to how gods, such as the Olympians, may slightly differ from that of a deified mortal like Alexander, and especially how his children fit into the stereotypical fate of Greek heroes but in a different aspect.
As with always, if you would like to leave a comment, it would be quite appreciated and if it to critique aspects of how I may be interpreting the lore of the Percy Jackson, by all means, if it will help improve my writing and the story I'm trying to tell ye all, I'd happy accept it!
'Till next week, I'll talk to ye again and I hope you'll mind yourselves in these dangerous times we're in.