I have no idea how often I'll be able to update this, given I have so many other things taking up my time. I also have no idea what could happen at the end of Trials of Apollo, but I've decided for now that EVERYONE is OKAY (Even though they probably wont be) so please remember that.
EDIT: no longer canon compliant with Trials of Apollo, as I've realized there's just far too many characters to balance. However, certain places and ideas in those books might still show up later in the story... (wink)
But for now, enjoy!
He was still awake when the clock struck two that night. Much later than usual, even for him.
Why? He wasn't a hundred percent sure. Some strange sensation deep within him, some aching feeling deep in his heart was keeping him awake and restless; an obstacle to the sleep he desperately craved. Was he excited? Nervous? Or afraid? There was no word in the dictionary that he knew of that could put a name to this feeling.
So he continued to stay awake despite the lateness of the night hunched over the desk in the cabin of the first-class plane flying to New York City. He re-read the scroll laid out before him for the umpteenth time, admiring the craftsmanship of the symbols; how delicately, meticulously they'd been inked onto the page. He'd never been good at doing anything as delicate or meticulous.
Thankfully that wouldn't be necessary. He'd practiced the pronunciation of every syllable in the text enough times to be able to recite it as if he'd been speaking the language his entire life, even though he'd been learning hieroglyphics for only a few years. Hopefully that would make up for his shortcomings in his mastery of the language, and even if they didn't, there was no going back now.
"Nervous?"
He sighed, not bothering to hide how exhausted he was. "A bit."
He turned. She'd just gotten out of the shower, black hair wrapped in a soft towel and wearing what looked to be...
"I thought you said you didn't like the color."
She grinned, dark eyes twinkling like diamonds from the light of the desk lamp. "It's still really comfortable," she replied, her mouth curling into a smile. "The color doesn't bother me so much since I know you like the way I look in it."
"True." His eyes traced the outline of her shapely body, admiring her smooth, creamy legs, eventually resting on the bit of bosom she hadn't covered up. Which was definitely intentional. "Though I love the way you look without it too."
She smirked, then slowly removed it, letting it fall to the floor. "Come to bed with me," she beckoned, walking toward their bed with a sensual, almost catlike grace. "We've studied it enough. It works. So don't you think it's time we had some fun?"
He sighed again, letting his shoulders ball. He still didn't quite feel like resting. But with the way she was begging him, how could he say no? He removed his boxers: the only article of clothing he was wearing, and immediately joined her. Thank goodness he'd decided to take a shower earlier. There was no way he could have left her waiting, with just how perfect and distracting she looked, wearing clothing she hated and he loved.
But half an hour later, after doing some more appreciative studying of a more intense kind, he would turn into his bed to stare out the tiny circular windows of the plane, allowing himself to get lost in the splendor of the starry skies before him. Relief from the nameless feeling didn't seem to last long.
Something gently poked into his back. A finger.
"What are you thinking now?"
Exhaling in frustration, he turned himself to face the intelligent eyes of the woman he loved staring intuitively into his own.
"All of that-" he pointed at the window, where outside was a sea of glitter swimming in black."-Will be in my hands someday. I wonder if it'll all still be as beautiful when I get to put it back together."
She shook her head with a slight grin of amusement on her face. "It will be even more beautiful," she assured him. "I'm sure of it. I am no Oracle or Seer, but I don't need to know the future to have faith in you."
With those words, the ache in his chest dissipated. He smiled, finally able to relax for the first time all day. "I wish I had your confidence."
She returned it, and it was then that he realized that was all he truly needed. He closed the space between their lips, letting himself get lost in her all over again. Hieroglyphics and Runes were a pain in the ass to master, but at least he was pretty skilled at giving his love a good time. And, after sweating over the details for so long, there was no better way to celebrate this day. Their plans were finally being put into action: the incoming dawn of a new age. Justice would finally be served. Justice for the blood and unjust suffering of countless of people throughout the eons. And after the failures of so many who'd tried, he, and all at his side, would finally get to write the last word in the era of Gods and Monsters.
-ψ-ψ-ψ-
Sometimes, in times like these, being the Oracle could be horrendously disappointing.
As one of the few beings in the world that had the ability to see into the future, it was a pity it turned out to be more of an on and off thing that only got into specifics whenever she was asked to do so (if one could call grim multiple stanza poems specific). Otherwise, she would no longer have to live off her parents and could make a fortune off investing in stocks. Or hell, she could make millions off of sports gambling, like Biff Tannen did in Back to the Future II. That was what real fortune tellers would do, she figured, if most of them weren't just phonies exploiting people's hopes and dreams for money. She could be able to move out of the NYC penthouse she'd called home for her whole life.
Instead, she was in the first floor of the said penthouse, with her hair done, and wearing...oh, what horror! A dress, and a fancy one at that, while stuck at a Dare Incorporated event hosted by her father, its CEO. She'd been working away at the Sibylline books with Ella back in New Rome when she'd gotten the text from him, informing her that she absolutely had to be back home.
"Can't I just leave now?" she gave her mother the best puppy-eyed look she could.
Margarette Dare, her mother, just shook her head in disapproval. "You know it's rude for a host to abandon their guests, isn't it?"
"But it's not my party," Rachel complained. She knew the unspoken truth her parents were keeping from her. The invitation was just a way for them to get her to meet other boys, aka late twenty-something to early forty-something business scions that so happened to be single. Obviously, because she was too weird and/or socially incompetent to be able to snag a boyfriend, even though she'd told them about Percy years ago.
She took another sip of lemonade. It's like they think it's still the early twentieth century.
But it wasn't like she could tell them the truth, could she? She can't imagine how much lower they'd think of her if she told them that she'd sworn an oath to a Greek god to be an eternal virgin. They definitely wouldn't just call another psychiatrist.
So, she'd decided to oblige them, if only to attempt to ease some of the tension that had built up between them since she'd started art school. William Dare and his wife had never understood nor appreciated her love and passion for the arts. But that wasn't a surprise: no upper-class land development scion would ever want their kid anywhere near the poor starving artist stereotype they'd probably conjured in their heads at the mention of art degree. It would make him the laughingstock of his friends, and of course, his reputation amongst them was far more important than the happiness and joy of his own daughter.
Rachel took out her phone and opened the photo album app. She scrolled past some nude references (NOT PORN, she'd reminded her mortified mother when she accidentally peeked) until she found the photo she was looking for. It had been taken at a Christmas party at Percy's apartment a few winters ago. Seated on the couch was Percy, stupid adorable Percy, kissing a blushing Annabeth on the cheek. Both were on the far right of the couch, Jason, Frank, Piper and Hazel and Hazel on their left. Leo, alive and well, happily holding hands with his now ex-girlfriend, Calypso on the floor. The only people standing behind the couch were Percy's mother, with his half-sister in her arms, his stepfather, Ella and Tyson. The photo would've been complete had Nico not left early on a movie date with Will. Rachel wonders how many dishes Percy must've had to wash that night after they'd finished dinner.
Sometimes, whenever she felt particularly lonely or melancholic, she brought up the photo and counted the days she would see them again. She'd made a few friends during her first semester, but she would probably never be as close as she is with her family at Camps Half-Blood and Jupiter. It was a pity they'd been able to see each other less and less over the years. The Argo II reunion parties had stopped as the Seven started taking up more responsibilities in their respective camps, as well as catch up on other important things; school, family, and well-earned rest.
Sometimes she caught herself wondering what it must be like to be the child of a God: to have a life filled with excitement and adventure like her friends did. But that longing would eventually morph into shame for doing so. She knew only an inkling of the sacrifices, the blood they'd shed, and the many other horrors they'd endured.
And although they never said so to her face, she knew that deep down, all of them were thankful that she hasn't given them another Great Prophecy to worry about. In fact, since the end of the Giant and Triumvirate Wars, the Oracle had strangely gone silent in spite of the fact the threat to it had been silenced. Silent enough to the point that Chiron had decided she was no longer needed at Camp Half-Blood full time. Even though she missed the comfy, seclusive cave she called home there, she was still grateful. She and Ella needed as much time as possible together to get to reconstruct the Sibylline books.
Rachel liked Ella a lot, unlike some. She found her manner of speech quite endearing the way random facts from her mouth as if it was all her brain could produce. She tended to appreciate things that aren't considered "normal". Some would disagree, but she figured it was just a unique perspective that made her a better artist.
If only Mom and Dad could feel the same way about me, she thought to herself, knowing that would likely never happen.
"You know the phrase, 'time flies by when you're having a good time?'" Margarette asked her. "Just try to."
How on earth are you a social worker? Rachel thought as she rolls her eyes.
"Oh look," her mother said. "You remember Mr. Gensai, right? Why don't you talk with his girl over there? I'm sure you'll find it a lot less boring than talking to me."
Rachel turned. Mark Gensai, the CEO of Natural Enterprises (which was ironic considering what they did), stood a few feet away from with some of his friends, laughing at something funny one of them had just said.
She considered her options. She could either force a conversation with a stranger she didn't care to know, or she could continue to torture herself for another four hours until she waved all the attendees goodbye.
"Fine," she decided.
"Thank you dear," Margarette replied. "I knew you'd see things my way."
Yeah, and it'll be the only time that happens for a while.
"Let's go introduce ourselves." Margarette motioned toward the crowd as they navigated their way through the sea of velvet and silk that made up the guests. When they're only a few feet away from them, she unashamaedly barged into Mr. Gensai's conversation, clearing her throat.
"Excuse me, Mr. Gensai," she interrupted. "Do you happen to remember my daughter, Rachel? And I don't think I've met your daughter, haven't I?"
Mark Gensai, a tall and sturdy looking Asian man of about fifty, smiled at Rachel. His brown eyes twinkled in a way that reminded her of an Olympian. Next to him, quietly sipping something that was clearly not juice was a dark-haired girl of around Rachel's age. She and her father have the same shining eyes, but she was at least a foot taller and was built like a basketball player, judging from the skin she showed in a black, sleeveless V-neck dress.
"Ah, Rachel!" Mark exclaimed. "It's good to see you again. And my, don't you look lovely this evening?"
"Thank you, Mr. Gensai," Rachel replied with a practiced grace. "You look very handsome yourself."
Mark laughed heartily. "A girl after my own heart! But sadly I don't have the luxury of engaging in conversation, as much as I'd love to. You see, I'm in the middle of what could potentially be the deal of my decade! I was just about to send Joel away, so why don't you two get to know each other? That way you won't have to bore yourselves with all our grown-up rabble?"
"That would be a splendid idea," Margarette agreed. "Rachel, I need to go find your father to let him know he has ten minutes till he needs to make the announcement. Have fun!"
With that, she walked off to find her husband. Mark returned to his conversation, leaving the two girls alone.
Rachel didn't like being forced into conversation, but she despised the awkwardness of silence even more. "So…hi. I'm Rachel, Will Dare's daughter, if you don't know already."
"I do," Joel greeted. "And I'm Joel. Short for Joelle, but most people call me the former."
"Ah. Err...Christian name, isn't it?" Rachel blurted out the fact without much thought. Ella must've finally been rubbing off on her.
"Really?" Joel said. "I wouldn't know. I'm pretty sure I come from a long line of atheists." She took one final sip from her goblet of expensive wine. After a moment, she remarked, "You really look like you want to be anywhere but here. Am I right?"
"Pretty much," Rachel admitted. She figured that if it was that obvious, there was no point in hiding it.
"Lemme guess," Joel paused in thought. "Your snooty, unpleasant and uncaring mother realized that and decided to entertain you by forcing us to talk, even though you'd never speak to me in a thousand years."
"Well, you're right about everything but the last part, I guess."
"You guess?" Joel inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"I've got nothing against you," Rachel began. She tried to choose her next words carefully, to not seem rude. "You seem nice enough. It's just…I hate being around them. Sleazy middle-aged bourgeoise like my Dad, sipping their expensive wine while they conspire to destroy the only earth they have. All while their underpaid employees spend their lives slaving under them."
"I think you're only half right." Joel gestured to the sea of wealthy people around them. "Do you really think that they're all here because they enjoy being in the company of their competitors? No, all of this is just an opportunity to have a bragging contest. You don't make friends in this business; everyone is an enemy to some extent. All you need to worry about is how badly they want your head. Outside of this room, they're at each other's throats, hungry animals scrambling for the ripest fruit in the tree."
"So you don't like your father's work," Rachel said.
Joel smirked. "Hell no. Do you?"
Rachel couldn't help but return the gesture. "What do having period cramps, breaking a bone and getting a hangover all have in common?"
"Tell me."
"They're all less painful than being at this party."
Joel let out a loud snort. "Oh thank god," she laughed. "Finally! I knew there had to be at least one civilized person here. I was about to lose hope."
Rachel couldn't keep herself from chuckling too. "Thank you. I guess that means this evening won't be so bad after all?"
She spoke too soon.
"-Yes, kids of this generation these all are, aren't they? Always marching about for social justice this and racism that. Someone should tell them to shut up and stop complaining and remind them how much worse it was back in the old days."
It turned out that her mother didn't have to walk very far: her father was only about 8 feet away.
"Useless. That'll be what your daughter turns up to be once she's finished going through all of your money," his secretary remarked.
"Well, I'll be sure to see that doesn't happen," William said. "She'll come onto us, just you wait."
"Oh will I?" Rachel called out loudly to her father. Everyone in her vicinity suddenly turn their heads towards her. She didn't care. "I'll just sit nicely and play the good, obedient daughter because that's being a good father, isn't it?"
"Darling," William said calmly, "-you are being very rude. I was having a very important conversation about important business matte-"
"Bullshit." Rachel snarled. How dare he? How brain dead does he think I am?
She inhaled deeply. "You know, have you ever bothered to actually look into career fields for artists these days? Instead of just looking at bullcrap articles about the top twenty worst degrees or whatever shit the College Board is putting out these days? There's a career to be made if you look and work hard enough."
"Honey," her father began in a gentler tone, as if it would work now that steam was probably coming out of her ears. "I'd hate to bring up this topic now, but you do know you have much better options, especially with what my position is-"
"I don't care about what you want anymore," she snarled. "You've never bothered to consider what I do. You and Mom never bothered to even have the time to sit down and talk about it. And now, as soon as you tell me to, do you really think I'll sit down and obey like I'm just some fucking housepet?"
William's face hardened into an angry expression. "Rachel," he said in a chilling tone she'd never heard him use. "That's enough."
"Yeah. Yeah it is," Rachel replied coolly. "I've had enough of you and all of the baggage that comes with being your daughter. And you know what?"
She'd been thinking about this moment for years. In fact, she'd considered doing it as soon as she'd graduated from the Academy. But part of her told her not to; to be patient and to give her parents the benefit of the doubt that they would treat her differently now that she was a legal adult.
There wasn't a lick of doubt anymore.
"I'm taking my things and leaving. For good."
"Get back here, Rachel!" William yelled in the angriest tone Rachel had ever heard him use. Still, she didn't care. The crowd parted ways for her as she marched towards the elevator. No one tried to stop her or scold her for embarrassing her father. When she was only a few feet away, her mother too screamed after her.
"Young lady, this is unacceptable!" Margarette cried in half desperation. "Get back here o-or you're grounded for the rest of the summer!"
Gods, she thought. Can you get any more cliched than that?
The elevator opened only seconds after she'd punched the button to go up. She ignored her parents' cries, her mind on autopilot with one goal in mind: OUT. And as soon as the doors shut, the feelings boiling inside her found release in the form of a yell of fury as the elevator made its way up up and away, sending her towards an uncertain trek of freedom.
-ψ-ψ-ψ-
Much to her surprise, no one tried to stop her.
She took it as a definitive sign that her parents really had stopped caring. Perhaps she didn't embarrass them as much as she'd thought. Or maybe she really did embarrass then and that was why they were letting her go. Served them right. They'd probably talked about her in that way for a long time. Hearing it for herself had been the straw that broke the Oracle's back.
After a few minutes getting the zipper to close on her suitcase, she decided to call Chiron on her cell, before realizing she'd forgotten to charge it. No matter, she would just call a cab. And she had plenty saved up in her own private bank account just in case her father had frozen her credit card.
When she stuffed the last of her clothes into her suitcase, it hit her that it could probably be the last time she would ever be in this room. There were still dozens of other sketchbooks lying around in her mess of a room that she would be saying goodbye to, probably, forever.
Her heart throbbed madly in her chest. Her body shook as what exactly what it meant finally reached her. For nearly three years, Camp had been her refuge from the chaos of her family life. Now, if things went as planned, it was going to be her home.
No, she thought. Camp Half-Blood had always been her home. It was merely about time she made it official.
After tearing off her dress and changing into more inconspicuous clothing, she rolls her suitcase to the door. But as soon as she stepped out the door, the wail of many sirens broke out, the howling growing louder and louder until she realized that they've stopped right outside of the penthouse.
She walked over to the window overlooking the street. All along the block, not one, not two, but ten police cars were parked outside the premises. Officers of all kinds were gathered outside their cars, making sure pedestrians would stay away. She'd been away from the party for at least half an hour. What on earth could've happened while she was packing?
She tried to call the elevator. She pressed the buttons furiously, but none of them would light up. Rachel waited at least 5 minutes before coming to the conclusion that something was seriously wrong.
"Everyone please remain calm," a distant, loudspeaker-distorted voice echoed from outside. "All must step away from the perimeter. I repeat, please step away from the perimeter of the penthouse."
She ran to another window. A CBS van had arrived, parked behind at least a dozen police cars, sirens flashing in the darkness. She dashed back into her room and turns on her flatscreen, flipping the channels until she found CBS.
DARE INCORPORATED DINNER HELD HOSTAGE IN CEO'S HOME read the headline on a banner displayed over a live stream of her home surrounded by police cars.
Hostage. Panic flooded her mind. Whatever was happening, she couldn't risk the possibility that someone else could force their way up.
She dashed out of her room, not even bothering going back for her suitcase as she slowly pushed the door to the stairway. She heard nothing. She was safe for now, but for how long?
She made it down two flights of stairs when a door slammed open from one of the floors below. Footsteps echoed throughout the stairwell, followed by a loud hissing. A hissing that came from something alive. A monster.
Rachel bolted into the closest door she could find. The penthouse also serves as one of the many offices of her father's company, so she's relieved to emerge onto one of the office floors. Her eyes wandered, scanning around her before finally discovering the nearest restroom and locking herself in one of the stalls.
Keep quiet, she thought to herself over and over, trying to keep her mind focused and to not panic. She said a silent prayer to every god she knew, even the ones she didn't like.
As she crouched on the top of her toilet seat, she heard the pattering of footsteps once more. Voices spoke in hushed tones from the hallway, and she was only able to make out a few phrases.
"-Sure she went in here?"
"-suitcase had the name Rachel. She's not far."
Shit.
"Got some scent here. Human."
"-ladies room. I'll do it."
A chill ran up her spine. Breathe, Rachel. This is just like back then at the Smithsonian. Keep calm, Keep calm…
The door to the restroom burst open with a bang. From the opening under the stall door, she saw two feet enter, accompanied by something long, black and scaly…
Rachel hated snakes. Every time she visited the zoo she made a point to steer clear of the reptile room. Her attempt to watch Clash of the Titans for mythology research ended with her having nightmares for a week. She hated the way they moved, the way they consumed their prey whole with their impeccably large jaws. Jaws that could swallow a human whole provided if it was big enough...and the monster nearby was definitely big enough.
"There's no use in hiding anymore," a voice called out. A man's voice.
There was a flash of light, and all the bathroom stall doors flew open with a BANG.
The intruder marched down until he finally came to Rachel's stall. He was tall, stern-looking young man, clad in a long, black robe, wielding a crooked cane in his hand. On his right, a black snake the size of a German Shepard slithered on the tiled floor menacingly, something straight out of an eighties horror movie, though much scarier.
Rachel took one glimpse at the creature and immediately shut her eyes.
"Are you Rachel Dare?"
Rachel couldn't say a word. Her body was completely paralyzed in shock, as if she'd just taken an ice cold bath. She tried to keep calm. She tried to keep her mind cool and focused on how to get out of this situation.
But her mind failed her. She had no combat training, no special demigod powers. The only power she had made her dizzy and go faint. Otherwise, she was as normal and helpless as a regular mortal would be in her situation.
"Don't worry," the man reassured her. Rachel didn't feel assured at all. He addressed her as if he were addressing a child, as if he truly believed he could convince her. "If you tell us the truth, we won't lay a finger on you. Those were our orders."
"I…I-" Rachel couldn't find the power in her to form anything resembling a world. All she could do was stare and shiver in the dark as the snake rasped and bared pin sharp fangs at her face.
"She hasn't had any meat in a while, you know." The man no longer seemed so calm. "Don't make us wait too long for—"
He never got to finish his sentence. The blade that suddenly burst from his chest cut him short. With a gasp, the man coughed up blood, then crumpled to the floor as it was pulled from his back. But before his snake companion could even turn to strike, it too was struck down, the blade passing clean through its body like a hot knife through butter, where it burst into a pile of ash that hit the floor with a soft floof.
A Stygian Iron blade she recognized, along with the person who was holding it.
"Gods, what a mess," Nico di Angelo grimaced as he wiped his bloody blade onto the dead boy's shirt. He held out his hand. "You doing alright, Dare?"