The Hunter's Heir
The Missing Cloak
The wind howled loudly in her ears, the clouds above rumbling with the fury of their master. Hestia tugged her cloak tighter around her small body, dark brown hood hiding her head from view. She shivered, taking a moment to gaze to the cloud-filled skies above. Zeus is angry, she thought. That was nothing new; her younger brother's temper was easily pricked, especially by the affairs of his children. She wasn't sure what he was so upset over, and she didn't care to find out at the moment.
The streets of Olympus were almost completely empty; only a handful of minor godlings remained on the street, and they were hurrying for cover from the harsh weather. She pulled the hood up higher and hurried on, turned down a side alley, crossed in front of a few cafes, and entered the Street of the Gods. Palaces, massive and glamorous, spread out on either side of her. She saw Apollo's first; three stories high and made of glowing gold so bright it was nearly blinding, utterly impossible to miss. Hestia had mixed feelings for her nephew. On the one hand, he was charming, handsome, and witty. (Though nowhere near as much as Athena.) On the other, he was vain, quick to anger, and petty. He and Poseidon had nearly come to blows over her hand, and afterward had wasted little time in taking lovers and siring children. She couldn't truly dislike him for that; he was far from the first Olympian—or even immortal—to take a paramour. But still, she doubted marriage vows would have stopped him from seeking pleasure elsewhere.
His sister was almost the complete opposite. Artemis was quiet, sullen to a point, vastly preferring the company of her mortal companions to her immortal ones. Her own palace reflected that. A simple little cabin of wood with glass windows, very much after Hestia's own heart.
Her own sister Demeter's was a large ranch house with an accompanying greenhouse overflowing with all manner of vegetation growing; Athena's interior overflowed with books and notebooks filled with all manner of things the goddess found interesting; Ares's Spartan-inspired monstrosity of red brick and dark stone; Aphrodite's glittering in pink and white; on and on it went.
Hestia's own was an afterthought, hardly noticeable in the sea of glitz and glam. A simple one-story, one-room wood shack; plenty comfortable and her favorite place in the whole universe. A fire blazed in the center surrounded by stone, a bed sat in one corner beneath a window, and a small dresser contained all the clothes she would ever need. She pulled off her cloak and hung it on a peg by the door. Beneath it she wore a simple brown dress and shoes.
She knelt in front of the flames and gazed into them. She saw the same thing she had seen for the last few days: Olympus crumbling, the sea and sky at war with each other, a silver goddess chained in bronze, a gold-eyed man with a cold steel voice. Him most of all. My father. She shivered. The flames were a blessing; a gift of Apollo's meant to charm her into accepting his courtship. Even after her refusal, he had allowed her to keep it, and for that she would be forever grateful. Now she could see what they faced; a mere wisp of prophecy, but enough to guess the road ahead.
Prophecy could not be avoided. She knew that better than most. The mere fact that she was standing there was proof enough of it. Her father would one day—one day soon—return, and Olympus would divide on itself and crumble. Prophecy could not be avoided, but it could be nudged, a simple push in one way. Perhaps Olympus would be destroyed, but perhaps not from division.
She took a deep breath to calm herself and focus her mind. I have no choice. She could not intervene directly, immortals were forbidden from interfering with the moral world, but one could in her stead. A champion. One who would ensure her family's survival and aid in the second fall of the Titans.
Hestia reached within the long sleeves of her dress and pulled out a lump of grey-brown clay, roughly the size of a large ball. She began to mold the lump, forming legs, arms, a body, and finally a head, till it resembled a human child. Her cousin Prometheus had been most helpful in teaching her; it had been a pack between them, millennia ago. He would show her how to form a person from clay, and in turn she would give him some of her hearth's own fire to give to humanity. She had never guessed Zeus would be cruel enough to punish him for his actions, and had pleaded more than once for mercy on behalf of her Titan kin. Thankfully her brother was not unmoved, and opted not to throw the "traitor" into Tartarus with their father and uncles; instead, he had merely chained him to a rock as a vulture pecked out his organs every day. She had tried to talk her brother down again, but Zeus would not be swayed a second time.
She took time to carefully sculpt the eyes, nose, mouth, and other facial features. Then she plunged her hand into the flames and drew it back out. The fire was little warmer than a summer's breeze on her skin, and no more an annoyance. She brought her hand to the clay child's chest and laid her hand upon it, letting the clay absorb the hearth's fire. Then she laid her hand on the child's forehead and closed her eyes, muttering ancient rites and words of power.
Before she could open her eyes again, a wail echoed through her small home. She looked down. The brown clay had gone a paler white, and the child had come to life, flailing its—her—little arms and legs about, hands clenched into tiny fists. A few tufts of brown hair, so much like her own, sprouted from the baby's tiny head. Hestia pulled the child close and began to rock her softly, humming soothing noises. After a few moments the baby calmed down and her raucous cries were replaced with soft coos. Hestia looked down. Deep red eyes—the same shade as her own—looked back up at her curiously.
A lump formed in the goddess's throat. She'd never once considered having a child of her own outside of extenuating circumstances (she could still remember her own mother's horrified shriek the moment before her father swallowed her), but now that one was here . . . she couldn't say it wasn't a welcome change. She went to the dresser and pulled out an old shirt of hers and wrapped her baby in it. The child squirmed a bit, and Hestia loosened the fabric so she'd be a bit more comfortable.
Her champion was a tiny thing, still so weak and helpless, but Hestia had total faith she would rise to the challenge. Her child would grow strong, powerful, capable of uniting her divided house where she couldn't, and help turn the tide in favor of the Olympians. But first she'd need a name.
Hestia thought a moment, then came up with one. "Melony," she said, smiling.
-o-
Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Melony could tell just at a glance, but further inspection all but confirmed her suspicion. Hestia, the Goddess of the Hearth, Keeper of the Flames, and the Last Olympian, looked positively frazzled; mussed up hair, nervous eyes, and she was pacing. Never in all the years since the two had known each other had Melony seen her mother pace. Normally the goddess was so calm, so reserved, a happy, loving smile pulling at her lips as her eyes gazed on warmly.
"Mom, are you okay?"
Hestia jumped a bit, eyes coming to rest on her daughter. "Hmm? What?"
"I asked if everything was okay. You don't look so good."
Hestia glanced at the hearth's red-yellow flames, half a dozen flickering tongues licking at the air. "Oh, yes, Melony, I'm fine."
She clearly wasn't. "Are you sure? Because if there's something bothering you, I'd be happy to help."
Her mother exhaled, shoulders slumping. "I am . . . I am fine, Melony, just a bit upset."
"At what?"
Her mother clasped her hands together, thumbs rubbing together nervously. "I seem to have . . . misplaced my favorite cloak."
"Your brown one, with all the holes?"
"Yes, that one."
"Well, I can ask Annabeth to make you a new one." The daughter of Athena had always been more of Hunter's friend than hers, but she was fairly certain her request would be honored. "Or we can go shopping—"
"No!" said Hestia, surprising Melony. Her mother almost never raised her voice, and not once in anger. Hestia seemed surprised as well, since she covered her mouth with a hand, eyes wide. "I am sorry, Melony, that was uncalled for."
"It's okay. Just . . . why can't we get you a new one?"
"Because that one is very special to me. It was a gift from my mother Rhea, your grandmother."
Melony had never met the Queen of the Titans, but from the stories she was much like her eldest daughter; kind, loving, with all the warmth her husband lacked. "If it's so important to you, how did you lose it?"
If the goddess was annoyed at the question she didn't show it. "I was walking through Central Park, enjoying the sounds of the birds singing and the children playing, and I stopped at a park bench to sit and close my eyes. I must have fallen asleep, because when next I opened them it was close to dark and it was gone."
"Could someone have stolen it?"
"It's possible, though I doubt it. It's only real value is sentimental."
"Still, maybe you just missed it. I'm sure I'll have better luck."
"You?" Hestia's eyes were wide. "You'd look for it, Melony?"
She shrugged. "Sure, why not? It's been pretty boring around here lately." The last few weeks since the Battle of the Labyrinth had been spent mostly training. The only ones allowed to leave camp had been approved to do so by Chiron. Otherwise, you were stuck here. It would do her some good to get out.
Hestia rushed to embrace her. "Oh, thank you, dear!" She gave Melony a kiss on the cheek. "What a wonderful daughter you are."
A blush crept onto the demigod's face. "I try." She stepped back. "Would it be all right if I brought Hunter with me?"
Her mother's smile turned sly. "Oh? Are you sure you don't want to bring that other boy with you?"
Somehow Melony knew her face was even pinker. "Jay's sick, he can't go anywhere." She'd heard him vomiting into the toilet when she woke up, as had half their cabinmates. "Besides, Hunter's good at tracking. He can probably ask a bird or squirrel or something if they've seen your cloak." She had never one hundred percent understood how his powers worked; something about controlling animals.
Hestia raised her brows. "If you say so."
Melony turned on her heels and began to march toward cabin eight. Melony had always liked the Artemis cabin; an all silver cabin that seemed to glow in the moonlight with silver curtains and images of wild animals carved into the wood. It was empty, too, which was something Melony was envious of. She loved her cabinmates, of course, but she didn't love how noisy they could be, especially when she was trying to sleep. Hunter had offered to let her and Jay spend a few nights with him, but campers weren't allowed to stay in other cabins.
"Besides," Jay had said when the offer was made and rejected, "I don't think Artemis will approve."
"Who cares?" Hunter had said. "If she has such a problem with you two staying here then she can come down and complain about it in person."
When nobody answered the door, she took a step back and looked around. "Hey, Will!" she called across the cabin grounds. "Have you seen Hunter?"
The son of Apollo pointed. "I think I saw him by the forge."
The forge? she thought, confused. Why would he be there? "Thanks, Will," she said, beginning to walk toward the forges.
The forge was some crazy fusion of a steam locomotive and the Parthenon; the sounds of hammers pounding carried over its surroundings, smoking rising from half a dozen chimneys that stuck up from the roof like fingers. Melony could see Charles Beckendorf, head of the Hephaestus cabin, and Hunter speaking in front of it, their arms waving about their heads. Dusk the crow sat perched upon the forge's roof, preening. Winter, Hunter's massive white wolf, lay upon the grass, watching her master. Her deep blue eyes snapped to Melony's red ones as she approached, then returned to watching what looked like a very heated argument.
Melony could hear some of it as she drew closer. ". . . just need a few more," Hunter was saying. "A dozen at most."
"A dozen?" Beckendorf's gruff voice said, incredulous. "You've already gone through thrice that already."
"I know! I just need a few more. They don't even have to be swords; spears, axes, hammers, daggers, it doesn't matter, any of them will do."
"And do you plan on providing the materials for these weapons?"
Hunter threw his arms up. "I already did! I gave back all the failures that didn't pan out."
"And those were re-made and given out to those who need it. You do remember we're fighting a war, right?"
"Of course I remember. I've done more to fight Kronos than you ever have."
"And yet I don't recall seeing you at the battle. Where were you, again?"
Hunter's face darkened. "That's none of your damn business, Charlie."
Beckendorf's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. He hated it when people called him that. "Now you listen here, you pompous little shi—"
"Excuse me," Melony said, taking a step toward them. "Everything all right here?"
Beckendorf's fists loosened and he took a breath. "Yeah, we're done here."
"No we aren't," Hunter said. "I still need my weapons."
"And I have neither the materials nor the time to complete them."
"Maybe we can come to a compromise?" Melony proposed.
Beckendorf huffed. "What kind of compromise?"
She put as much charm into her voice as possible. "You need materials, and Hunter needs weapons, right? What if Hunter gave you the funds to get more materials, and in exchange you give him any broken or useless weapons you might have."
"Celestial bronze doesn't come cheap," the son of Hephaestus said.
"I'm sure it doesn't." She turned to Hunter. "You still have the card you got from your uncle's place, right?"
His eyes widened. "Yes, but—"
"Give it to him."
"Hold on—"
"Do you want your weapons or not?"
For a moment it looked like he would storm off, but then he reached into his jeans' pocket and pulled out a small plastic card and handed it over. "Here. Funds on there are practically limitless, but don't come crying to me if you spend too much and Apollo comes looking for answers."
Beckendorf turned the card over to examine it, then looked back to Hunter. "Give us about a week, and you'll have what you need."
"Good. I'll leave you to it." He promptly turned on his heel and walked away. Winter got to her feet and loped after him, Dusk flapping quickly to land on his shoulder. Melony gave Beckendorf and quick smile and hurried after her friend.
"What was that about?" she asked.
"I've hit a snag in my experiments, used up all the spare weapons that were available."
She hummed. For the last few weeks Hunter had been experimenting with weapons, something about making them "more suited for him," whatever that meant. What she did know, however, was that a failed experiment couldn't start over; the weapon had to be totally melted down and re-forged.
"Have you used Dawn yet?"
He scoffed, giving her a sideways look. "Don't be ridiculous. Dawn's the weapon I plan on using the experiments on, I can't use it until I'm certain I can get it right."
"Will Artemis mind you tampering with it?"
"Why would she? It's mine, she said so herself."
The conversation lulled until they made it back to the cabins. Just before he could cross the steps to cabin eight's porch she grabbed his arm. "I need your help with something."
"Oh?" he asked, gently pulling his arm back.
"My mom lost her favorite cloak and I need your help to find it."
"Just me?"
"Jay's sick today. Nothing major, he just can't go out."
"And you want me . . . to help you . . . find a cloak?"
"Yes. A brown one, with lots of little rips and tears."
He looked like he was going to refuse, then shrugged. "All right, I suppose I could go on a little adventure. Where are we headed."
"Central Park."
Another shrug. "That's not too bad. Gimme a sec, I'll be right out."
He opened the door for Winter and Dusk to enter, then closed it behind him. He emerged a few minutes later, pulling his black leather jacket over his shoulders, then his sword. The pommel poked up over his right shoulder. Melony could honestly say she was a bit jealous of the sword; it was large, yes, but beautiful. Metal pale as milk that seemed to shine in moonlight.
"Does Chiron know we're leaving?"
"Not yet, but I thought we could stop and tell him on the way out."
"You think he'll just let us go?"
"Maybe not, but so what?" She smirked. "We can always just sneak out, right?"
His smirk matched her own; it was one he usually wore. "Damn right."
"Will Dusk and Winter be joining us?"
"Not this time. Can't just walk around with a wolf at our heels, can we? And Dusk really doesn't like cities."
"Too much noise?" So much like his master.
"Mm-hmm. You ready?"
She gripped the sword at her hip. "Yep. Let's go."
-o-
Central Park was a vast expanse of large green trees and fresh-smelling grass, here and there populated by walking roads, a few small ponds, and structures meant for relaxation and play. Birds chirped overhead and a squirrel chased another one up a tree, branches and leaves rustling in their wakes. Melony and Hunter stood at the edge of one of those small ponds, seated on a park bench. A small family of ducks were swimming around a little bit away, and a family of humans were fishing across the pond, laughing. It is peaceful, she thought happily. It made her want to just back and watch the day go on. But she couldn't.
"So this is the place?"
"Mm-hmm," she said. "That's what Mom said, anyway. See anything?"
They'd sat down hoping to catch some hint of where the cloak and whoever had taken it could be, but no such luck. "No," Hunter said. "Gimme a sec." He sat back, eyes rolling into the back of his head.
Melony wasn't ashamed to admit she felt a little tingle as he left his body; his powers had always been a bit unsettling for her. To leave one's body behind and inhabit another's . . . it was a scary thought. She always wondered what it was like for the recipient. Were they aware of their actions, or did they go away inside, like they were asleep? To have your own body dominated and controlled by the will of another . . . it almost felt like slavery. The worst kind of slavery, too; the kind where any form of resistance was impossible. It almost made her understand the fear his kind inspired.
"Any luck?" she asked once he returned.
"I think so." He rose and turned, pointing. "I peeked into the memories of the animals around here. They weren't super knowledgeable about your mother's time here, but a few did see some dryads take your mother's cloak while she napped."
She grimaced. "What could they want with some ratty old cloak?"
"Maybe get rid of it as a crime against nature?"
"Ha-ha, very funny," she said dryly, standing. "If they did get rid of it, I want to find out why. Where to?"
He waved her forward. "This way, c'mon."
He led her away from the main street and into a large mass of trees that seemed to grow closer and closer the deeper in they got. What sunlight managed to shine through the branches gradually grew darker and darker, and the sounds of wild animals became almost muted, until they stumbled past the tree line and emerged in a wide clearing. Moss-covered rocks and blueberry bushes dotted here and there, and a well-sized pool surrounded by rocks stood in the center. A man was sitting on one of those rocks, playing a lute. The soothing music filled her with calming peace and made her sleepy, but she blinked it away and took a step forward. "Excuse me?"
The man opened his eyes excitedly and jumped down. "At last, my love, you've—Wait, who are you?" He was dressed in robes of leaves and twigs, a crown of golden daises resting on his dark hair. His skin was the color of fertile soil, his eyes a deep blue.
"My name is Melony, and this is Hunter. We were sent by Lady Hestia to find her cloak. Have you seen it?" Nobody save Hestia, Jay, and Hunter knew Melony's parentage, and they all agreed it would be best to keep it that way to avoid awkward questions.
The man's eyes lit up again. "My love has sent you? Oh, joyous day! Come, come." He clapped his hands together twice. Nymphs and dryads spilled from the trees, carrying platters of food and drink. The man glided seamlessly over the grassy floor to another nymph. She handed him a ratty brown thing.
"Here!" He held it out before them to behold; faded brown wool, though here and there patches of darker fabric showed. "You see, it was all messy when I found it, yet my wonderful servants here helped fix the holes and make it look pretty again. Tell my love what wonderful Priapus has returned her property to her, better than ever before!"
Hunter's eyes narrowed. "Priapus?"
"Yes!" He bowed low. "I am but a simple harvest god, one who seeks nothing more than to reunite with my love, the most beautiful woman on Olympus." He held out the cloak. "With this gift, I shall win her hand."
"Your love?" Melony was confused. "You mean Hestia?"
"Indeed, my dear child."
"You don't love her." Hunter took a step forward, jabbing a finger at the god. "You tried to force yourself on her."
Melony's eyes widened. "You what?" Smoke began to rise from her curled fists. She'd always had trouble combusting when feeling intense emotions. She'd gotten better, but right now none of her mother's teaching were ringing in her head.
The god flinched as though struck. "Never!"
"You waited for her to fall asleep and tried to have your way with her."
"No!" Priapus held his hands up. "I never, I swear it. Please, dear children, I beg you; hear my story, get my side. Then come up with your own conclusions."
Hunter glanced at her. "It's your call."
She took a deep breath, in and out and in and out. "Tell me."
"On the anniversary of the gods' victory over the Titans, Lady Rhea called a great party to celebrate. Every god and Titan was invited, and even many of the nature spirits. I accompanied my father Dionysus* and mother Aphrodite, but after a while I stepped outside to clear my mind and get a whiff of fresh air. And that was when I saw her. Lady Hestia was asleep nearby, and I watched her for a time, trying to gather my confidence. I was not the first to court her, nor the last. So, after many agonizing moments, I began to approach, until that infernal donkey brayed and woke the sleeping goddess. She cried out, and before I could explain myself the other gods were on me. They beat and berated me, never once listening to my explanations. I was banned from both Olympus and any divine festivities, unable to give my side." He cradled the cloak to his chest, and with shock Melony realized he was crying. "That was one of the reasons I took this. I hoped she'd come herself, and I could tell her what I've told you. Will you tell her? Tell her Priapus never meant any harm."
He's no bad, just lonely and pathetic. She stepped forward and took the cloak from him. "I will."
He cupped her cheeks. "Oh, thank you, dear child. You truly have a kind soul."
"So we're free to go?" Hunter asked.
Priapus pulled his hands back, eyes flicking over Hunter's form. "Yes, I should hope so. The sooner the abomination is gone from my sanctuary the better."
She felt Hunter stiffen, even from so far away. "Don't call him that," she warned.
He looked at her, confused. "Why? It's what he is."
"Apologize," she said, letting the first hints of a chill into her voice.
"Who are you to command a god, girl? Leave this place, now."
"Not until you apologize." She gripped her sword's hilt.
"Perhaps Hestia's next errand girl will be more polite." He raised a hand and stepped back. "Destroy them."
Melony and Hunter drew their swords—the one oat their hip and on their back, respectively—together as the nymphs moved in, wielding daggers of pointed rock and spears of sharpened branches.
Melony rushed two of them, sword flashing. No fire, she thought. It would spread and carry on the wind. She really didn't plan on burning down Central Park. She deflected one attack and used the momentum to drive her sword into the thigh of one of the nymphs, wrenched it out and bisected another, green blood leaking out. A third nymph broke off the attack and fled from the battle. She turned her attention to the last three.
One came screaming at her, stick spear held high. She dodged out of the way, spinning, and drove the pommel of her sword into the girl's skull. It was clear these nature spirits spent most of their time in their trees and not fighting. She'd fought first year Hermes campers stronger than this. She ducked under a strike, cut quick, retreated, then got in a quick jab at the fifth spirit's shoulder. She yielded, sobbing, and dropped her weapon. The last one saw her sisters' fallen bodies and dropped her stone weapon, disappearing in a flash of sweet-smelling mist.
She turned to Hunter and found him wrenching his blade out of the body of the last of his opponents. It seemed his foes were more fixated on killing him than her own enemies had on her. Luckily for Hunter he was faster that she, so he had nothing to worry about.
They found Priapus hidden behind a large stone, shaking. He screamed when they began to circle around him and began to scramble back on his hands and feet until he hit a tree. "P-Please," he said. "Don't hurt me."
"Apologize," Melony said.
The god looked at Hunter, then averted his eyes. "I . . . I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted," Hunter said, sheathing Dawn. "We done here?"
Melony looked back to the pathetic god. "Stay away from Hestia."
"I . . . I will. I swear."
"Now we're done." She turned on her heel and walked away, Hunter just behind her.
-o-
Hestia frowned over her cloak, running her fingers over the new-sowed patches. "You say Priapus did this?"
"Yes, Mother."
"He had no right. I liked it the way it was."
"He was only trying to impress you, get you to meet him." She told her mother what the god had said.
Hestia frowned. "Hmm. Then I am sorry I misjudged him." She looked down at the cloak again. "Still, I swore to remain a maid, and a maid I shall remain." She shot her daughter a small smirk and a glance. "Though perhaps things would be more amusing with him as your stepfather."
Melony shuddered. "Fates, no."
Hestia laughed, slipping the cloak over her shoulders. "Fear not, I was only teasing." She turned to Hunter and bowed her head. "I am sorry he called you that; Melony has told me how much you hate the word."
Hunter waved a hand. "I don't worry about what some F-list god has to say about me."
"Still, I am grateful that you could accompany my daughter. Artemis is lucky to have a son such as you."
Pink spread across his cheeks. "Hmm. Damn right she is. Now, if you two will excuse me, I should be getting to archery practice with my cousins. I'll see you, Melony. Hestia."
"Good day, Hunter," Hestia said.
"Bye, Hunter," said Melony. He nodded once, then left them.
Hestia turned to her, smiling. "Now then, are you ready to begin?"
"Mm-hmm," Melony said happily.
"Good." She spread her hands to the flame. "Breathe deep, and steady yourself."
They sat down, and began to train.
* It doesn't make much sense for Dionysus to be a god only after the victory over Kronos, but I chalk this up to the Greeks playing fast and loose with their mythology.
A/N: Hey, everyone, good to see you all again! You miss me? I'm back earlier than expected, and I plan on releasing a new chapter every week (or bi-weekly depending on chapter length) until around the end of August. After that . . . we'll have to play it by ear. But I plan on ending this story by the end of the year. So, what did you think about the POV change? I plan on showing more scenes from Jay and Melony's eyes as the story begins to wrap up.
Anyways, please let me know what you thought about this chapter and expect many more frequent updates. Stay safe, everyone.
Bye!